


Bittersweet

by inkedstarlight



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Background Relationships, Denial of Feelings, Elriel, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Marine Corps, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Modern Era, Mutual Pining, Nessian - Freeform, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:00:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25810222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkedstarlight/pseuds/inkedstarlight
Summary: Nesta up and moved the minute she graduated high school. Now, seven years later, her father has died. After years of separation, Nesta is now living in the same city as her sisters, with Elain as her roommate. Feyre introduces Elain and Nesta to the Inner Circle. But they're missing a certain member...Cassian returns to the Marine Corps to find two new members of the Inner Circle. He pushes Nesta's buttons more than anyone ever has. Cue heavy angst, mutual pining, and a very, very slow burn.
Relationships: Elain Archeron/Azriel, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Morrigan (ACoTaR)/Original Character(s), Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 134
Kudos: 207





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I want to make something clear before you guys dive into the fic. This is a romance story (obviously). That being said, there will be good ol' tropes and drama. However, the main characters are both dealing with their own issues. This story will NOT be about two people who fall in love and thus become happy all of a sudden. No one is curing anyone's mental illness. There will be personal growth and healing instead.  
> However, I recognize that I'm a human and make mistakes so if you ever think I'm portraying this in a way that romanticizes mental illness, please tell me so I can fix it!

**June**

Nesta was accepted into graduate school today, and she didn’t know whether to cry or smile.

To throw a pity party or a celebration.

To be or not to be.

She was trifling through her mail this morning when she saw the large envelope with the words ‘Prythian University’ printed front and center. She wasted no time ripping it open, and a gasp left her mouth when she read the first sentence.

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Master’s program of English at Prythian University._

She had grabbed her phone to tell someone about the news, but her smile quickly faded when she realized she had no one to call, no one to celebrate with. No one to tell her, “I’m proud of you.”

Nesta had scrolled through her contact list, which consisted of only fourteen people. Fourteen people and not one of them close enough with her to warrant such a text. Heart sinking in her chest, Nesta slammed her phone on the coffee table and fell on the couch. A lump formed in her throat, but she refused to let a single tear shed.

But she was in no position to complain. Nesta chose to move away. She chose to be alone. She was the only person to blame for her own unhappiness. 

Nesta had lived in the dreary state of Massachusetts since she graduated high school, leaving her family behind in Maine. The place that conjured nightmares, that was teeming with ghosts. Every corner she turned in her hometown, she was met face to face with her past – the one she so desperately tried to forget. Her family had lived there since Nesta was born. They didn’t have the funds to move to a better town or a bigger house. Up to this point, Nesta’s entire life happened in that horrible town.

Her younger sister, Elain, cried when Nesta announced her decision to move to Massachusetts for college. Feyre’s eyes remained dry, but she wished Nesta good luck.

Nesta and her two sisters had been close as little girls. Sure, they were wildly different from each other – Elain was intelligent and soft-spoken, Feyre creative and stubborn, Nesta hot-headed and brash. They argued. They resented each other in ways sisters did. But they looked out for each other. Since Nesta was just five years old, she did everything she could to protect her sisters, whether they knew it or not.

When Nesta was just fourteen years old, their mother left them. She walked out of the door forever, and everything changed. Elain was crushed but she continued to look out for their father, whose depression worsened when his wife left without saying goodbye. Feyre took her absence the hardest. She had the closest relationship with their mother as the baby of the family, relying on her more than her other sisters. Feyre was the last one to see her. Apparently, their mother made her promise to look out for the rest of the family. She said Feyre was the only one who could do it. And because Feyre was stubborn to a fault, she kept that promise every damned day.

And Nesta? Nesta was relieved and confused and angry and heartbroken. She still was.

So, when Nesta left for college, she promised that she would keep in touch with Elain and Feyre. They all promised. However, they inevitably got busy with their own lives and grew apart. When Elain graduated high school just two years after Nesta, she chose to remain in Maine to tend to their sick father. She attended community college, even though she’d dreamed of being a pediatrician since she was just nine years old. She sacrificed her opportunity for a higher education, and Nesta admired her for that. At the same time, however, she also wanted more for her sister. She had a habit of being too selfless. Always giving, never receiving.

Just a year later, Feyre became the last to graduate. She too flew from the nest, heading west to Colorado. Nesta wasn’t the only one who had a distaste for their hometown. Feyre was born an adventurer. She wants to explore, create, travel. More importantly, Feyre was doing something for herself. Feyre had assumed the role of provider when their mother left them in their youth. At only thirteen, she managed to find a job, and continued to do so until she was eighteen. Feyre had grand plans to visit every New England state during her high school career. She wouldn’t shut up about the places she would see, the people she would meet.

Feyre didn’t stepped foot outside of Maine until she graduated.

The only person Nesta completely cut loose was her father. Elain and Feyre had tried to rationalize with her about this many times, but Nesta put an end to every discussion.

Elain was very close with their father. Feyre was neutral. Nesta resented him. She knew they judged her for that, even if it wasn’t explicitly said. She also understood their reasoning.

They just didn’t understand hers.

Last Nesta heard, Feyre had found her niche at college. Back when they called more often, she had gushed about her new friends and latest conquest. His name was Rhysand (to which Nesta sniggered – who named their child that?), and the pair had recently begun dating after a year of pining for one another. Nesta told her that their love story sounded like the kind of fanfiction she (shamefully) loved. From what Feyre told her, it sounded like she was head over heels, despite her sarcastic deflections.

That was two years ago.

Of course, Nesta had spoken to both her sisters since then. It was rare for them to call, but they would share occasional text conversations. Just last month, Nesta texted Feyre to congratulate her on graduating Summa Cum Laude. It didn’t go much beyond that, though.

Nesta and Elain’s text message history was quite sad to look through. Once a month, Elain would send her an update on their father’s wellbeing. Nesta would not respond. The next month, she would receive another update. No response.

It never angered Nesta to see those texts; it only saddened her.

Elain wore her heart on her sleeve, ever the peacemaker in the family. Her intentions were pure, but she didn’t know the story of Nesta and their father’s relationship. She’d asked, but Nesta was always quick to shut her down.

Despite their one-sided texting, Elain called Nesta every couple of months. It was awkward, but it warmed Nesta’s heart to hear her sister’s voice. Their calls never lasted more than ten minutes, Nesta the one to end the conversation. When they hung up, however, guilt crushed her. Nesta was slowly losing everyone she loved, and it was entirely her fault.

After Nesta had gotten her undergraduate degree in Massachusetts, she worked at two minimum wage jobs for three years to save up enough money to pay for grad school (along with several loans). Her first choice, Prythian University, happened to be just outside of Boulder, the town where Feyre was living. It was also one of the best graduate schools for an English degree in the country.

Nesta considered telling Feyre her news. Obviously, she had to share it at some point. But anxiety crept into her chest whenever she picked up her phone to tell her. What if Feyre wasn’t happy about it? What if she didn’t want Nesta living near her? She had created her own life in a new state. Nesta couldn’t just interrupt after years of shutting her out. 

After spending the entire day overthinking, Nesta decided to venture downtown in the evening for a small, lonesome celebration. She would treat herself to a drink (or two), go home, and read a romance novel or two while Iroh, her black, grumpy cat, snuggled in her lap.

So, there she was. Sitting at the local bar, legs crossed as she people watched. Nesta had even dressed up for the occasion. She wore a dress that fell to her ankles, the forest green color complimenting her golden-brown hair. Her arm sleeve tattoo was on full display, and her other ink that disappeared beneath her dress. Dark kohl coated her eyes with a smokey finish.

The bar itself was a welcoming environment. String lights latticed the ceiling, the bulbs providing dim lighting for those who had secrets to keep. Wooden tables faced a small stage at the opposite end of the building – presumably where they held open mic nights. Dark oak walls were plastered with photographs, license plates, and other décor.

It being a Tuesday night, there weren’t many people out. Nesta noticed a couple middle-aged men drinking beers together, an older couple sitting close in a booth, and a small group of what looked like college aged women. Smiles were etched on all their faces. Nesta lifted her hand to touch the frown she wore. It only deepened.

 _Just be happy for once,_ Nesta thought to herself.

As the bartender refilled her gin and tonic, someone approached the barstool to her left. Nesta glanced sideway to discover a young man with a hard face. He looked about her age with dark hair and a tanned complexion. He was handsome in a rugged kind of way. Removing his leather jacket, he revealed the fitted shirt he wore, which clung a body that screamed “I go to the gym every day.” Before he sat next to her, the man dropped a duffle bag on the floor with a loud _thud._

He didn’t seem to notice her as he flagged down the bartender and ordered a drink. His voice was low, tired. She recognized the sound. It was the sound of someone who was exhausted, and not just in the physical sense.

“Running away from home?” Nesta asked. The man turned his head to find her gesturing to his oversized bag.

 _Why did I just say that?_ she asked herself. Nesta rarely made conversation, much less with some stranger at a bar. It was abundantly clear that she had certainly drunk enough alcohol to wash away any and all inhibitions.

He chuckled. “Something like that.” The man peered at her closer. His hazel eyes twinkled in the dim lights as he inspected her. “Bad day?”

She hesitated, surprised he even noticed. "You could say that."

“Care to elaborate?”

A sober Nesta would have shut him down before he had the chance to even ask. A sober Nesta wouldn’t have even made conversation with this dark, handsome man.

Alas, she was three drinks down and had no intention of stopping anytime soon.

“I got into my dream school,” she started. “It has a really great grad program. When I read the letter, I reached for my phone to tell someone. Only, I realized I had no one to call. I… I realized that I’m all on my own.”

He stared at her for a moment. “That’s quite a feat. You should be proud.”

Nesta shrugged, uncomfortable with the man’s genuine tone. She never figured out how to tolerate a compliment, much less accept it.

They fell silent before he spoke again.

“I’m about to be on my own, too,” he confessed, focusing his attention on his calloused hands that rested on the counter. “And I don’t know how to feel either.”

 _No wonder he looks so exhausted,_ Nesta thought. She could see the conflict in his body language, his tone. War was waging in the stranger’s eyes, and it didn’t seem like the first time he’d gone to battle.

She wanted to ask where he was going. What was in his bag. Who he was leaving behind. But Nesta only nodded with understanding.

_I see you._

In that moment, they formed some sort of kinship. They weren’t just two strangers at the bar. It was longing, Nesta realized. Longing for a connection, a companionship. To escape from the perpetual loneliness.

They stared at each other until the man broke his gaze when he checked his watch. He cursed.

“I have to leave now if I want to catch the bus,” he explained. Nesta watched him down the rest of his drink and stand up.

“Good luck,” Nesta said feebly as he shrugged on his jacket.

She wanted to say more. He seemed to need it… and so did she. “Whenever you get lonely, just remember that strange girl at the bar. She’ll be thinking about you.”

His face softened. “Good luck,” he whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

**August**

The funeral was small. Just three sisters and a few old, distant relatives.

It was a bleak day, the humidity itself enough to make you squirm where you stood. Dark clouds roiled in the sky, but the rain never came. Not when Feyre gave a eulogy. Not when they buried him in the ground. Not when Elain collapsed on the fertile grass. She watered the earth more than the sky did that day.

Nesta’s father died two weeks ago. It was sudden in the way that everyone knew he didn’t have much time left, but no one thought it would really happen. Elain didn’t want him to die because she loved him. Feyre didn’t want it to happen because she didn’t want to face her conflicted feelings. And Nesta didn’t want it to happen because she still had so much to say to him, none of which was pleasant.

She had gotten a call from Elain just two days before he passed. He was getting out of bed when he collapsed to the floor, immediately losing consciousness. Elain sounded frantic amidst the sirens of the ambulance, begging her sister to come to Maine. Despite her reservations, Nesta promised that she would be there as soon as she could. She started her car the minute they hung up. Not for her father, but for Elain. Nesta would never forgive herself if she let Elain deal with this alone. She’d already shouldered so much responsibility in her twenty-two years, and this was a burden she shouldn’t carry alone.

The drive was only four hours, but it felt like a lifetime. The highway was curiously vacant, only a handful of cars passing by. The only audible sound was the engine’s hum. Other than that, the car was eerily silent while Nesta drove, her knuckles white from clutching the steering wheel so tightly. Her palms were damp with the dreadful feeling of anticipation. Sunglasses shielded her eyes, consequently hiding unshed tears and blocking the blindingly bright sun. She usually played music during drives, but today was different. Today was unknown.

Nesta hated summer. Summer had high expectations. It expected her to be happy. It expected her to wake up with the sun. It expected her to spend her time outside when all she wanted to do was sleep until noon. While most people basked in the warmth of summer, Nesta found solace in the frigid winter.

Much to her dismay, the only direct route to the hospital was through Nesta’s old neighborhood. The longer route, which steered clear of Ashgrove Drive, added another half hour. She refused to take the long way and risk not being there with Elain. It was just a house and nothing more. That’s what she told herself at least.

When the street sign came into view, she pressed her foot harder on the gas pedal. The two words in and of themselves spiked Nesta’s heart rate.

Ashgrove Drive.

Fear clawed its way up her throat.

_It’s just a neighborhood. Stop panicking._

With a stoic face, her eyes didn’t waver from the road in front of her. Innate curiosity told her to let her gaze wander from the street. Just a peek. But she held her ground. Nesta didn’t spare a glance at the playground she used to spend her afternoons at. Or the middle school she so dreadfully loathed. Or the people who knew everyone’s name and their business.

And certainly not her childhood home.

When she reached the stop sign at the four-way intersection, she checked each way for other cars. Unfortunately, her old house happened to sit on the left corner directly behind one of the stop signs.

Just one glance and Nesta was transported back in time.

_“Why the hell did your teacher just email me to inform me that you weren’t in her class today?”_

_“I’m sorry, Mommy. I just really miss Nala. I couldn’t go to school.”_

_“That cat was put down a week ago and you’re still whining about it? Get over yourself, Nesta. You’re being a baby.”_

_"But -"_

_“If you speak another word, I will make sure you regret it. No one cares about your hurt feelings, Nesta. I didn’t raise you to be a weak bitch.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“I don’t know how you turned out to be such a waste of space. I gave up everything for you, and I got nothing in return.”_

Waste of space.

Waste of space.

Waste of space.

A horn blared, shaking Nesta from the deeply buried memory. She was still sitting that the intersection, staring at the blue shutters and fading paint of the house. Peeling her eyes away from that haunting house, Nesta accelerated out of that damned neighborhood.

When she finally arrived at the hospital, Nesta sat in her car for a few minutes before going in. Intrusive thoughts were flying through her head so fast that she could barely decipher them.

_Will Elain be happy to see me?_

_Will everyone resent me for leaving?_

_What am I going to say to Feyre?_

_What if he dies and I feel happy? What kind of person does that make me?_

The car got smaller and smaller as her thoughts grew bigger and bigger. Sweat dripped from her forehead, the hot air nearly suffocating her. A panic attack was slowly bubbling to the surface.

Before it could hit her, Nesta let out a curse, unbuckling the seat belt to get out of the car. She pulled herself free as she gasped for fresh air, leaning her body against the car so her knees didn’t give out.

_Pull yourself together._

After a couple deep breaths, the anxiety ebbed away. She smoothed a hand over her frizzy hair and stood up straight with determination. Shutting the car door and locking it with a _beep_ , Nesta entered the hospital.

After navigating through the maze of hallways for a good twenty minutes, Nesta finally found her sister. She was crouched over on a chair, her shoulders drooped low. The cheap chair sat across from a hospital room, presumably their father’s. Elain lifted her head from her hands when she heard Nesta approach. It pained Nesta to see the tears in her sister’s eyes. Her face was puffy, her clothes rumpled. Without hesitation, Elain threw herself into Nesta’s arms, which were already spread open. The impact of Elain’s body against Nesta’s was forceful, but it was incomparable to the ache in her chest. Nesta felt Elain’s tears drip on her shoulder, her shirt soaking up the grief. Wrapped in each other’s arms, Nesta closed her eyes with content. Something in her felt whole again, like she found a missing puzzle piece. Gods, how she missed Elain. She missed the strawberry scent of her hair, the way Elain’s head was perpetually tilted to the side, the tiny freckles that spattered her nose.

“I missed you so much,” Elain cried, echoing Nesta’s own thoughts. Her heart broke just a little more.

"Ditto, kid.” Nesta stepped back to inspect her younger sister. “Where’s Feyre?”

_Please don’t be here._

“She couldn’t get a flight on such short notice. She was finally able to book one that leaves late tonight, so she should arrive early tomorrow morning.” A worried look crossed Elain’s face.

Nesta exhaled a big breath. She didn’t have the mental energy to face Feyre. Not today.

“How are you doing?” Nesta asked softly, tucking a strand of Elain’s hair behind her ear. When they were young, Elain would beg Nesta to do her hair nearly every day. And while Nesta brushed her silky hair, Elain would spend the entire time rambling about anything and everything.

They hadn’t done that in years now.

“As good as I can be, I guess,” Elain answered with a shaky smile. It didn’t reach her eyes . “Better now that you’re here. I’m so happy to see your face, Nesta.”

Nesta tugged Elain’s fragile body close to press a small kiss to her forehead.

“What’s the latest?” Nesta asked, nodding her head toward the door of their father’s hospital room.

Elain’s face crumpled with sorrow, tears welling up in her eyes. “The doctors said they couldn’t do much. He’s been sick for years. They said it’s a miracle he even survived this long.”

Nesta nodded before glancing behind Elain at the door once again. Elain watched her with the gentlest eyes.

“He said he wanted to speak to you.”

Nesta’s head snapped back. She didn’t think twice. “No.”

“Please talk to him,” Elain begged. Gods, she looked so small. “If not for him, then for me.”

“Elain…” Nesta warned. _Don’t make me do this._

“I don’t know exactly what happened between you, but what I do know is that it’s torn our family apart. You need to see him,” Elain whispered. “Please.”

_It’s torn our family apart._

Nesta’s stomach twisted with guilt. Elain was looking up at her with something akin to hope, like Nesta had the power to fix their fucked up family. She had let down Elain one too many times already. It wouldn’t happen again. She couldn’t say no.

Without uttering a word, Nesta walked past Elain and opened the door.

She was immediately blinded by the fluorescent lights that hung from the tiled ceiling. It made death look even paler. As her eyes adjusted to the brightness, a strong stench hit her nose: the scent of rubber gloves and unending grief. The rhythmic beep of the monitor was a reminder of an imminent death. A spider web of tubes and wires surrounded her father’s hospital bed. She couldn’t tell where they went or what they were doing. It looked as though he was wrapped in a cocoon. And when Nesta’s eyes landed on her father, he was already looking at her.

"Nesta… you look stunning,” her father croaked out. Despite the artificial light, his hazel eyes glimmered. His wrinkles deepened when he gave her a sad smile, his face marred with years of life. A face that, after seven years, was now wrinkled and drab. His gray hair had thinned out with time.

Nesta shifted uncomfortably.

“I know you’re unhappy with me, Ness,” he confessed quietly.

 _Ness._ She hadn’t heard that nickname in years, hadn’t thought about it. It was her dad’s name for her when she was a young girl. He would call her the “Loch Ness monster” when they played hide and seek; no one could ever find her.

“You deserve an explanation…” he struggled to continue. She noticed his hands trembling. “I should have told you years ago.”

Nesta didn’t break her silence, but she pulled a chair to the side of his bed. She waited for him to continue. She would listen to his bullshit excuses. She would put up with his stories of cowardice. But the minute he finished telling his fabricated version of the story, she was going to let out everything that had been stirring inside her for years. She wasn’t going to hold back, not even when he was on his death bed. Nesta wouldn’t pity him. He had felt sorry for himself his whole gods-damned life. He didn’t deserve another ounce of sympathy.

Her father expelled a shaky breath. Nesta couldn’t tell if it was because he was nervous or because he was dying. She didn’t particularly care either way.

He began from the very beginning. His relationship with her mother. The year leading up to Nesta’s birth. The early years of her life that she had no recollection of. The reasons behind his behavior, behind her mother’s behavior. The incident that changed everything. The year her mother left. All that happened after that fateful day. Everything.

She didn’t know how long he talked for. Minutes, maybe hours. Any concept of time was lost when he uttered that very first sentence. Now, Nesta was holding onto the arms of the chair so as to not fall off and collapse.

When her father managed to finish his story, his voice was so hoarse that he was barely audible. And Nesta… Nesta was unable to fight off the tears. She choked out a sob, the strangled noise ringing in her ears. Tears for her father, for all that she had put him through over a grudge. Tears for the countless years wasted resenting him. Her throat burned with years of guilt, rendering her speechless. For once in her life, she didn’t stop the tears that ran down her cheeks. There was still so much to be said but Nesta didn’t have the strength to utter a single word, so she reached for her dad’s hand and squeezed gently. It was cold, too cold. But he squeezed back, his fragile fingers holding onto Nesta’s with the love of a father. She heard him murmur soothing words as her entire world came crashing down.

The words that had played on repeat in her head for years rang louder than ever.

_You’re a waste of space. All you’re good for is hurting people. You deserve nothing._

“Your sisters…” her dad wheezed, “spend time with them, Ness. You need them as much as they need you.”

Nesta only nodded, her body racked by violent sobs. Her head was heavy. It was so, so heavy. She rested her forehead on their joined hands when his heart monitor started to race. Nesta’s eyes snapped to her father’s, which were already closed.

“No,” Nesta whispered in shock. She shook her dad’s arm, desperately trying to wake him up. The monitor got faster and faster. She needed to tell him, she can’t keep it in. “Daddy! Wake up… no.”

Her breath caught in her throat when the heart monitor flatlined. Her lips parted as she cried out, but nothing left her mouth. Nesta clutched his hand, his body temperature getting colder and colder by the minute.

“ _No!_ ” She was screaming now, and she relished the burning of her throat. The pain. Nesta heard nothing but a ringing in her ears. She couldn’t see anything except her dad. Her dead father.

He couldn’t hear her. She knew it was too late, but that didn’t stop the words from leaving her lips.

“I’m so sorry, Dad.”

She kept repeating herself for what felt like hours until her voice was raw and her eyes were burning. The words continued to leave her lips even when the doctors rushed in. Her apologies spilled out as a nurse pulled her away from the bed. She was still whispering “I’m sorry” when Elain rocked her back and forth in the waiting room. Nesta didn’t remember stopping, not even when she drifted to sleep, and not when she woke up the next day drenched in her own tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I make myself cry when I write this angst  
> Kudos and comments always appreciated! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it to chapter three! I hope that means you're enjoying it :)

After her dad’s funeral, Nesta announced her plans to move to Colorado to attend Pryth U, which was met with a stern scolding courtesy of Elain. She chastised Nesta for not calling her the minute she found out. But after her lecturing, Elain squeezed Nesta into a hug and expressed her excitement. Feyre responded positively to the news as well, though she certainly wasn’t as enthusiastic as Elain. It wasn’t a surprise considering the current state of Nesta and Feyre’s relationship with each other. Feyre didn’t need to tell Nesta that she resented her for their childhood; it was glaringly obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes. As the oldest sibling, Nesta didn’t provide a single penny for their family after their mother left. She let her thirteen-year-old sister work for the money that bought them lunch at school. Nesta let Feyre fail tests that she didn’t have time to study for. She let Feyre sacrifice her entire life.

Instead of staying in her childhood home with her sisters, Nesta opted for a motel just a town over, to which Feyre rolled her eyes at. She and Elain insisted Nesta stay in her old bedroom to save money, to no avail. She wasn’t ready to step foot in there. It was too soon; the wound was far from healing.

Nesta spent most of her time in the motel while her sisters went through the legal process of their father’s death: his will, financial accounts, safety deposit box. She didn’t dare venture the town and risk bumping into any familiar faces. Gods forbid she see any old peers. So, she remained in her room nearly every day, blinds shut and door locked. She didn’t bother buying groceries; she wouldn’t be in Maine long. In turn, she was barely eating. But Nesta didn’t see the point of filling her stomach when it wouldn’t do anything to fix the emptiness inside of her. 

Elain visited her every so often, but she too was mourning their late father, and she wasn’t quite herself. When she’d made the decision to live at home after high school, she and their dad bonded. They were the only ones who had a true father-daughter relationship, and Elain knew him best. She knew what he wanted his funeral to look like, where he wanted his ashes scattered. But because she spent his last years by his side, Elain had witnessed the gradual deterioration of his body through her own eyes, which had given her time to accept the inevitable well before his death. She had been prepared. But it didn’t hurt any less.

Feyre, on the other hand, refused to visit Nesta at the motel. Her exact words were, “I’m not dragging myself to a gods-damn motel. If you want to see me, I’ll be at the house.” Nesta hadn’t expected her youngest sister to visit her. According to Elain, Feyre was distracting herself with the legal responsibilities of their dad’s death. When she wasn’t drowning in paperwork, she was talking to Rhysand on the phone. Feyre once again assumed the parental role. Guilt stabbed at Nesta.

_Waste of space._

_Waste of space._

_Waste of space._

A couple nights after the funeral, Elain was visiting Nesta. They had been catching up ever since that first day, learning more and more about each other’s lives and moments they had missed. Elain shared everything: her friends, classes, plans, romantic relationships (or lack thereof), etc. Elain revealed that she loathed the community college she attended. They only offered low-level courses for her biology degree and consequently, she was not on track to receive her bachelor’s on time. And she certainly wouldn’t be able to have a career as a pediatrician if the prerequisite classes weren’t offered at the school. Nesta noticed, however, that Elain never once complained about staying home for their father. She didn’t express regret about the decision she made to sacrifice her professional goals. And because she was Elain – sweet, loving Elain – she found a way to blame herself. Elain was never the type of person to place fault on someone else, even when it _was_ their fault. She would apologize when someone bumped into her or insulted her. Nesta knew her sister was smart enough to recognize she wasn’t in the wrong, but Elain was raised to believe she had to please others. She had to be selfless with every decision she made or else she thought herself to be a bad person. Nesta worried that one day, Elain wouldn’t stand up for herself and she would get hurt beyond repair.

The two of them sat on the suspiciously stained bed of the motel, mugs of steaming tea in their hands. The few belongings that Nesta had brought to Maine were stuffed into the tiny closet. The only indication that someone was living in the room was the rumpled sheets. The sound of pounding rain and clapping thunder roared as the sisters conversed.

“I’m not going to stay in Maine,” Elain confessed quietly as they sipped their tea.

Nesta rose a brow. “Oh?” It was the first she’d heard of this.

“I applied to Pryth U in the spring. Dad was in bad shape, and I had a feeling he wasn’t going to make it to the fall.” Elain swallowed loudly. “I, uh… I got in.”

Elain smiled sheepishly as Nesta gaped at her. “Elain, that’s wonderful!” Nesta interlaced her fingers with Elain’s and squeezed. Pride shone on her shadowed face. It was the first time since the funeral that she’d felt anything other than grief.

 _I_ _f she’s moving to Colorado…_ Nesta was cut off before she finished the thought.

“I was wondering… er, what do you think about having a roommate?” Elain’s knee bounced up and down in anticipation, her tea spilling slightly in her shaking hand. “I’m not messy at all, I promise. And I would pick up after my – “

Nesta reached over and put a hand on Elain’s knee to stop her rambling. She peered over at her clumsy sister.

“I’m not really a people person, but I suppose I could make an exception for you,” Nesta teased, earning a chuckle from Elain. Her gaze softened. “I would love for us to live together.”

Elain’s eyes got wide and she smiled – truly smiled – for the first time in what felt like forever.

* * *

When Elain returned from the motel, she sat Feyre down and reiterated her plans for the fall. The minute the words left Elain’s mouth, Feyre was jumping off the sofa, dialing real estate agents, and punching numbers on a calculator.

Two days later, the Archeron house was put up for sale.

The sisters got to work quickly, eager to complete any unfinished business so they could get the hell out of Maine, a state none of them were particularly fond of. Nesta browsed the Internet for apartments, Elain joining her when she wasn’t helping Feyre clean the house. Their house had two stories, three bedrooms, and one and a half baths. It was smaller than most houses on the block, but in good shape nonetheless. The blue shutters were charming enough, the rolling yard spacious. Luckily, most of the rooms were already empty, and there was little furnishing. They were already preparing for tours; the area was popular for families with young children considering the elementary school was just a five-minute walk away.

As expected, the house was sold in a matter of days.

It was just a week later when Nesta stood on the sidewalk in front of her old home, Elain by her side. Somehow, Feyre and Elain had convinced her to go there and sort through their father’s final possessions. Apparently, he left Nesta some things in his will in addition to the financial assets they all received. This was the last thing they had to do in Maine. Then, Nesta could return to Massachusetts, pack her shit, and move to Colorado with Elain.

And finally leave everything behind.

This was her last chance to see her childhood home – her only chance. Nesta didn’t particularly care to add anything more to her list of regrets, which was long enough as is.

“Are you ready to go in?” Elain asked with a tilt of her head.

Nesta bit her lip and simply stared at the front door.

Elain must have sensed her hesitance because she reached between them and interlaced their hands. Nesta jumped slightly at the sudden contact but just a moment later, she squeezed her sister’s hand tightly. Elain squeezed back.

_We’re in this together._

Nesta gave her a small nod, and they proceeded to walk straight toward her worst fear.

The first thing Nesta noticed was the smell. A hint of her father’s cologne. Mothballs. A whiff of air freshener to cover up the dusty scent.

Feyre was hunched over her laptop when they entered the kitchen. Her eyes were unreadable when she took in Nesta, but they softened slightly as she got up to hug her. Leaning back, Feyre peered at her closely.

"Are you doing okay?” The first indication that Feyre cared about Nesta. She couldn’t help but wonder if Elain had something to do with it; she was always the mediator between them, even during the most trivial disagreements.

“Everything’s in the living room.”

A nod.

She let Feyre lead her through the kitchen and into the living room. The floorboards groaned under their footsteps. It sounded like the entire house could collapse if they stomped hard enough. The foundation had always been weak.

The living room looked the same yet so completely different. Her dad’s beat-up armchair wasn’t sitting in the corner. The built-in bookshelves were bare, no children’s books or games to be found. The once plush carpet had been worn into a mere threadbare rag. Something cracked in Nesta’s chest when she beheld her dad’s belongings. Neatly folded clothing, stacks of books, souvenirs from business trips, dozens of journals, homemade wood carvings.

“Do you want to read it?” Feyre murmured, will in hand. “To see what he left you.”

Nesta’s hands shook as she accepted the paper. It was flimsy. She could easily tear apart all her father’s wishes, set them aflame until they were ash on the floor. Perhaps she would if it hadn’t been for her visit at the hospital that day. Perhaps she would have thrown it all away without a second thought. And to think, that was just a week ago.

Nesta burned with shame. How had she been so willing to act in such a horrific manner? How had she been so _selfish?_ So unforgiving?

Her father had waited years for Nesta to come around. He never lost hope that she would find her way back, despite the awful things she’d said to him throughout the years. Her father – the man who let his daughter hate him to protect her from the ugly truth. Nesta didn’t want to even think about how disappointed he must be in her.

Nesta had never let herself admit it, but she was just like her mother. Not only in the way she looked – her stormy eyes and golden hair – but also who she was. Nesta ended up hurting everyone who got into her path of destruction and chaos. No one got out unscathed. Not even Nesta herself.

Nesta forced herself to read the typed words that were inked into the thin piece of paper. If she delayed this any longer, she would explode.

_For Nesta Archeron, my eldest daughter, I leave a third of my property and monetary assets, as well as my full collection of journals. May she use them to write the book she’s been dreaming of for years._

Then, at the bottom of the paper, Nesta read the handwritten words.

_I forgive you, Ness. Now it’s your turn._

Nesta didn’t notice she was crying until the words blotted together as her tears fell on the will.

* * *

Classes started tomorrow, and Nesta hadn’t left her bed in a week.

Her and Elain officially moved in three weeks ago. Their apartment was small and quaint, and if anyone were to peek their head in, they’d know who decorated it. Overflowing plants hung from the ceiling, built in shelves adorning the white walls. Fairy lights were wrapped around the wooden beams that stood between the living area and the kitchen. Plush pillows – yellow, maroon, green – were laid on all the couches. The many windows had been cleaned and remained open most days, letting the refreshing Colorado breeze cool the room.

It had Elain written all over it.

After settling in, Nesta had turned into a recluse – more so than ever before. She spoke only when Elain initiated conversations but even then, her answers were short and clipped. Her bedroom door was perpetually closed, and Nesta had no idea what day it was.

Her bedroom was bare, save for the queen-sized mattress she rested on. All her belongings resided in the guest room for the time being, the boxes stacked to the ceiling. Nesta had only unpacked a thick blanket, cat supplies, and a small lamp. She had stuffed her father’s journals under her bed the moment they’d moved in. She’d taken every last one. They were out of sight, but they weren’t out of mind. The reminder of the journals weighed heavy on Nesta’s heart. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to read them.

Elain was treating her like a porcelain doll. Nesta hated it. She hated the fact that her younger sister had to take care of her. She hated being weak. Nesta had struggled with mental health issues since she was a girl. Some of it was due to the inherent chemical imbalances in her brain – she had her family’s poor genetics to thank for that – and the rest of it could be attributed to everything that’d happened to her. It could have easily been subdued with therapy and medication, but her parents didn’t take any sort of action. They didn’t even recognize their own mental illnesses in the first place, much less their children’s. Feyre herself struggled with bouts of depression in high school when she was working forty-hour weeks and studying until the sun rose every morning. Elain had gone through her own struggles, but she kept her cards close to her chest. She didn’t want to burden others with her problems. Even when Elain was at her lowest, she put everyone before herself. And even though it was driven by nothing but compassion, she needed to help herself first.

None of them saw therapists. None of them were prescribed medications. Feyre used sheer will to graduate high school and move far away. Elain persevered through her pain and learned to love herself. Nesta, however, wielded no such resilience.

Like she said, she was weak.

It was three o’clock in the afternoon. The curtains were drawn to ward off any sunlight that peeked through the windows. Nesta lay in her bed, a gray hoodie drawn over her head. It nearly swallowed her tiny body. Iroh was curled up by her side, nestled in the soft fabric of her oversized sweater. He hadn’t left her side since moving in.

As Nesta stared at the popcorn ceiling above her, idly rubbing her hands through Iroh’s black fur, she overheard Elain in the kitchen. She was talking to someone on the phone, her voice hushed.

“She barely leaves her room,” Elain whispered. “She’s not eating. I’m worried, Feyre.”

Nesta craned her neck closer to the door.

“No, she doesn’t want to talk about it,” Elain explained, frustrated by whatever Feyre had said. Concern laced her voice.

“Her classes start in a week, and she hasn’t even begun to prepare for the semester. I don’t know how she’s going to be able to attend classes based on the state she’s in…”

Silence. Nesta waited.

“I don’t know how I’m going to take care of her if she doesn’t attend school, Feyre. My class schedule is already so busy. Maybe I can request to do remote learning from the apartment?”

 _Oh, fuck no._ Anger bubbled to the surface.

Nesta swung her feet over the edge of the bed to snatch the phone out of Elain’s hand and smack some sense into her, but her leg swung into the bedside lamp. She watched in horror as the light fell to the floor. The bulb shattered easily, blanketing the room in darkness. Nesta cringed as the loud crash reverberated throughout the entire apartment.

_Do the gods really hate me this much?_

“I got to go, Feyre. I’ll call you soon.”

Nesta’s heart sunk in dread as she heard Elain’s quiet footsteps approach her bedroom. She quickly cocooned herself back into the comforter before Elain had the chance to see the state of her sickly body.

“Nesta?” Elain knocked on the door quietly. She peered in, rich brown eyes wide with concern. “Are you okay?”

Nesta didn’t say anything as Elain let herself in. Her long hair – typically fashioned into a neat half-updo – was sticking out in every which way, the golden waves pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her thick-framed glasses were pushed onto the top of her head. She wore leggings and a graphic tee that said, “ask me about my plants.”

Elain walked over to sit on the edge of the bed. Nesta laid on her side facing her sister, but she didn’t look at her. Her eyes were instead fixated on the empty wall as she avoided Elain’s gaze. Elain tentatively lifted her hand and rested it on Nesta’s head. She gently combed her hands through her sister’s mangled hair – hair that hadn’t been washed in weeks. They didn’t say anything for a couple moments.

“How are you feeling?”

No answer.

“Do you need me to contact the school?”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Nesta croaked with a hoarse voice.

“I know.”

“I don’t need someone to take care of me.” Lies, lies, lies.

“Are you still planning on attending classes?” Elain continued, ignoring her sister’s insistence.

“Yes.” The word was bitter on her tongue.

She heard Elain exhale a deep breath. Relief, she guessed.

Truthfully, grad school hadn’t crossed Nesta’s mind once since they’d moved in. She didn’t particularly care about her education.

Until now.

Until Elain volunteered to sacrifice her education once again for the sake of her family. Nesta may be a bad person, but there was no way in hell she would let Elain do such a thing. Nesta had been complacent when they were young girls – letting Feyre provide for the family, refusing to speak to her father, tearing everyone apart. Leaving all of them without thinking twice.

“Can I do anything? Buy you supplies?”

“Go away, Elain.” _Leave it be._ _This is only making it worse. Go before I –_

“Please, Nesta, let me – “

“Leave me the fuck alone!” Nesta snapped, pulling herself upright and pointing a deadly finger at the door. Her voice cracked as she yelled.

 _Leave me to die,_ Nesta almost said.

Elain recoiled, eyes filled with hurt.

In that moment, Nesta truly loathed herself.

As Elain began to get up and leave, Nesta wrapped her hands around Elain’s to stop her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Gods, I’m so sorry, Elain.”

Elain remained frozen.

“I don’t… I don’t know what’s happening to me,” Nesta whispered, terror in her voice. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

A couple tears fell from Elain’s eyes, but she slid closer to Nesta. She didn’t speak for a few minutes.

“I just want you to be happy, Nesta,” Elain told her, a sad smile on her face. “I haven’t seen you happy in years. I remember when you were, though. I remember when you beat up those boys who bullied Feyre in middle school. You came home with a broken tooth, but you were grinning nevertheless.”

 _Gods._ Nesta didn’t want to listen.

“And all those times when we would all have a sleepover together since Mom didn’t let us have friends over. You always made it so fun. You would sneak me and Feyre soda.

“I don’t know what happened to you when we were kids, Nesta, and I understand that you don’t want to talk about it quite yet. But when you do, I’m here for you. I just want my sister to come back. The happy, real version.”

Nesta wanted to tell her. She wanted to explain why she was this way. She wanted to tell Elain that she didn’t deserve any semblance of happiness. That she shouldn’t have to reassure her older sister.

Nesta wanted to sob, but nothing came out.

She was empty.

So, she just slowly tucked the blankets to her chin and laid back down. A sign of defeat.

Elain settled into the bed beside her sister. She cooed soothing words as Nesta held onto her for dear life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a while to write. Not only because it's longer, but the content. UGH. Why do I love and hate writing angst so much?  
> What do you guys think so far? I hope you like it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof I'm exhausted guys. I think this is gonna be the last chapter I'm gonna upload today. Enjoy meeting the Inner Circle and Elriel meeting & being all cute :)  
> WARNING: This chapter contains brief mentions of eating disorders and weight loss

**September**

Nesta was staring at her reflection when Elain knocked on her bedroom door.

“Feyre’s here!”

“I’ll be right out,” she called back.

Nesta directed her gaze back to the mirror. She didn’t know what to make of what she saw.

Her face was jaunt, the shadows under her eyes resembling purple bruises. Her face had always been angular, but never so bony. Her thick golden hair now hung limply, greasy strands falling into her face. Nesta hadn’t showered in days, and her breath reeked thanks to a lack of nutrients. She was the color of a ghost, nearly blending into her surroundings with her tiny presence. Nesta was shrinking into herself little by little. Until nothing remained.

She had never been so underweight, not even when their mom forgot to cook most nights. At Nesta’s normal weight, her toned thighs touched each other. Rolls formed on her stomach when she bent over. She looked like a woman.

But as she stared at the mirror, Nesta looked like a girl.

It wasn’t intentional. Gods, she’d seen what that sort of thing did to people. Elain struggled with an eating disorder since she was thirteen.

Those couple years were brutal. Their dad was emotionally absent, their mother gone. Feyre was working every day. Nesta did as much as she could, but… there’s only so much she could do. Their family couldn’t afford a therapist or nutritionist. Elain didn’t want to get better.

Then, Elain passed out walking home from school. That’s when Nesta had enough. She couldn’t stand to watch her sister completely disappear right in front of her eyes. So, she talked to Elain’s guidance counselor, Alis, who was the only qualified person there. The other counselors did shit. All they cared about was academics and nothing more. Alis gave Nesta pamphlets for free group therapy. Nesta marched home and told Elain about it.

She refused for a month.

Nesta had never seen Elain so angry and hopeless during those few weeks. Angry at Nesta for getting into her business. Hopeless in the way that she didn’t particularly care what happened to her.

Then, one day, Elain found Nesta sobbing on the floor of their bedroom. When Elain took a step closer, Nesta snapped. She screamed. Gods, did she scream. She begged – begged – Elain to stop killing herself. Nesta was desperate, and she knew the only way Elain would agree to get help was if Nesta asked her to do it for her. And so Elain agreed.

It took a long time; recovery isn’t a linear process in the slightest. But with time, Elain healed. She healed until she was doing it for herself, not just for Nesta. And now… now, Elain cherished her body. She’d once told Nesta that the intrusive thoughts still surfaced, but they weren’t nearly as loud as they used to be.

Nesta’s sudden weight loss… it wasn’t the same. It was the depression that was gnawing at her very flesh, the guilt that was eating her away until it hit bone. She didn’t care to eat. She didn’t care to do anything.

Elain had been trying to get her to eat every day. Three meals a day. She had always been a fabulous cook, baking and cooking until the sun set. Nesta wished she could stomach Elain’s food, but she felt as if she would throw up if she consumed anything more than a piece of fruit.

Nesta sighed with resignation. Turning her back to the mirror, she walked out of her room to find Feyre and Elain lounging in the kitchen. Elain’s profile was backlit by the window above the sink, highlighting her light hair.

“What do you want?” Nesta asked as she approached them, taking a seat on the stool. She’d completely lost energy during the past few weeks, and any semblance of patience was easily lost on her.

Feyre ignored her brash tone. “How are classes going?”

“Fine.” She didn’t bother elaborating. There wasn’t much to tell anyway.

“You look thin,” Feyre commented, running her eyes over Nesta’s barely visible body.

“Are you here to criticize my appearance or can I retreat back into my room?”

“It was just an observation, Nesta,” Feyre told her. Then, she addressed both of them. “My friends and I are having a dinner party tomorrow night at my house. It’s a small tradition that we do every other week. Do you guys want to come?”

“Yes!” Elain jumped up excitedly. She gripped Feyre’s shoulders, the latter smiling widely. “I finally have a reason to dress up!”

Feyre unraveled herself from Elain’s grip and turned to Nesta. “Are you in?”

 _“I’m_ invited?” She couldn’t help but ask. Feyre hadn’t exactly gone out of her way to spend time with Nesta. It wasn’t like Feyre was cruel to her; they’d simply become strangers after years of no communication. Feyre had shown Elain around town, but that courtesy didn’t extend to Nesta.

Feyre blew out a breath of air and nodded. “I want to try to fix… this.” She gestured between them.

Nesta would have laughed if it weren’t for the nervousness in Feyre’s eyes. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think I’m ready to meet your friends quite yet.”

 _I_ know _I'm not ready._

Nesta had been doing better since the semester started; that much was true. Even so, she rarely talked to anyone, save the obligatory conversations with professors as well as her T.A.’s. She only left the apartment for classes and never lingered on campus to study or socialize. Considering it was a challenge to talk with her peers, Nesta was _pretty_ sure she wouldn’t be able to make conversation with her estranged sister’s friends.

“It would mean so much to me if you met them, especially Rhysand.”

“I said another time.” Nesta’s voice was hard.

Feyre squeezed the bridge of her nose as she tried to reign in her temper. “Please, Nesta? It would be good to get out of the apartment.” She looked resigned, as if she knew Nesta would refuse. “You don’t even have to say anything. No one there will question your silence, I promise. They’re all easygoing.”

She wasn’t asking much of Nesta. In fact, Feyre was asking for the bare minimum. And as much as Nesta dreaded the idea of being surrounded by a group of complete strangers…

 _You need them as much as they need you._ Her father’s words echoed in her head.

Nesta nodded. “Okay.”

And with that, the tether between them began to mend.

* * *

Feyre and Rhysand’s house lay at the edge of the city, the stars brighter without the light pollution of the city. Elain marveled at the mountainous backdrop as she and Nesta pulled up to their spacious home in Elain’s old Beetle. Nesta’s stomach twisted when she noticed several cars parked in the driveway. She should turn around and return home, she wasn’t ready for –

“Let’s go inside!” Elain sang as she unbuckled her seatbelt. She wore an off-the-shoulder pink dress, the pastel color complimenting her fair skin. The soft fabric fell just below her knees, a gentle breeze caressing the skirt of the dress. She was stunning. Nesta had told her as much when Elain emerged from her room.

Nesta, on the other hand, had chosen to wear ripped jeans and a black hoodie. How she and Elain were related, Nesta had no idea.

They strolled to the front door, Elain bouncing with each step. She’d gushed throughout the entire car ride about the stories Feyre had told her about Rhysand, which somehow led to Elain rambling for ten minutes about her dream wedding.

Gods, Nesta had never met a bigger hopeless romantic.

Sounds of laughter could be heard from inside as they stepped onto the front porch. Elain didn’t hesitate as she knocked three times.

Feyre answered the door just seconds later. Her golden hair tumbled to her shoulders, an easy smile on her face. Nesta had never seen her sister look so happy. She was glowing, and it wasn’t because of the warm lights behind her.

“You made it!” Feyre exclaimed happily, opening the door wider to let them inside. She noticed the dish in Elain’s hands as they walked past her. “You didn’t have to bring anything, El.”

Elain only scoffed as Feyre closed the door behind them. “Like you would have been able to stop me.”

Just as Feyre was about to address Nesta, a few people – her friends, Nesta presumed – entered the foyer.

“Everyone, these are my sisters, Elain and Nesta.” Feyre gestured to them as they stood awkwardly in the doorway. “Elain and Nesta, this is everyone.”

A tall, dark haired man approached them, sliding his hand onto Feyre’s lower back.

Nesta knew who it was before he spoke.

His violet eyes sparkled. “I’m Rhysand,” he reached in to shake their hands. “I’ve heard a lot about you both.”

_Elain really wasn’t lying about his eyes._

He directed a blindingly white smile at Elain to which she returned. But when his gaze slid to Nesta, his grin slipped slightly, eyes narrowing.

_What the hell?_

“Well, isn’t this lovely,” a seductive voice drawled. Nesta’s attention was grabbed by the tiny girl who’d spoken, her hair sleek and short. She was standing at the kitchen table with her arms crossed over her chest, staring at Rhysand, and a raised brow that seemed to say, _Really?_

“I’m Amren.” She flashed Elain and Nesta a wicked grin. “Excuse Rhys’s poor manners.”

Nesta liked her already.

“This is Azriel,” she pointed to the brooding man behind her. He nearly blended into the shadows, his presence calm and quiet. Nesta couldn’t help but notice the scarring on his hands. She instinctively pulled her sweater over her wrists.

The man – Azriel – gave them an awkward wave, his gaze hovering on Elain who returned his greeting with an equally awkward wave of her own.

“I’m Morrigan,” a raspy voice sounded from the kitchen counter. A woman sat at the breakfast bar with a wine glass in hand. Her lips were painted the same crimson color of the drink she held. “But you can call me Mor.”

Another woman stood behind her, hands playing with Mor’s blonde hair. Her skin was a dark hazelnut, waves of thick, black hair framing her face. She wore a bright smile. Together they were regal, the picture of beauty. “This is my girlfriend, Aurra.”

Aurra murmured a greeting, to which Elain reciprocated with a bubbly enthusiasm.

“There’s one more of us, Cassian, but he’s in the Marines. He’s stationed in Turkey right now,” Rhysand explained. He directed the statement towards Elain. He didn’t seem to care to acknowledge Nesta’s presence. “He’ll be back in December.”

“Oh, I completely forgot!” Feyre jumped in. She looked at both Nesta and Elain. “I meant to mention this to you guys when I visited you the other day. Cassian actually lives in the same apartment complex as y’all. I think his place is just a floor above you, so you guys will get the chance to meet each other. It’s hard, though, because he never knows when he’s going to be deployed.”

Nesta nodded absentmindedly, uninterested in these people’s lives. She doubted she would see them again, much less the friend who lived near them.

After the introductions, everyone got settled. Feyre gestured Nesta and Elain to follow her into the living room.

“Dinner isn’t ready quite yet,” she explained, sending a pointed glare where Rhysand stood. He lifted his hands up in surrender. “So, I figured we can just drink and chat until Rhys can cook us something edible.”

Mor snorted from the kitchen at Feyre’s jab. She grabbed Aurra’s hand and they waltzed to the armchair that sat next to the vast fireplace. Aurra pulled Mor onto her lap, Mor giggling as she took a sip of her wine.

Feyre offered them wine. Nesta took hers and followed everyone to the living room. Luckily, she found a seat that distanced her slightly. Feyre sat atop a stool, Rhysand behind her to keep an eye on dinner. Amren lounged on a plush floor cushion, leaving Elain and Azriel on the loveseat.

The conversation came easy. Rhysand and Mor fired question after question at Elain, to which she answered happily. Feyre kept her word; everyone respected Nesta’s space. She was faced only with the occasional, “More wine?” or “The bathroom is over there.” It gave Nesta the opportunity to sit back unbothered and listen to the conversation.

“So how do you all know each other?” Elain asked curiously, gesturing to Feyre’s friends.

Rhysand smiled with fond memories. “I lived across the street from Azriel as a kid. Cassian is my adopted brother, so we all grew up with each other. Mor over here is my cousin. We all went to the same university. Amren…” Rhysand got silent. A small, contemplative smile grew on his face. “I don’t really know how she joined us. I’m pretty sure she approached us and told us that we were now friends with her.”

Amren nodded to confirm as everyone laughed. Her smile resembled the Cheshire Cat.

“And Feyre darling,” Rhysand looked at his girlfriend lovingly. “She stumbled upon us in our sophomore year. That’s a story for another night though.”

Nesta couldn’t help but snort at his nickname for her. Feyre shot her a glare. 

* * *

After dinner, which ended up being soup thanks to Rhysand’s lack of cooking skills, they all retreated back to the living area. Feyre popped open yet another bottle of wine to top everyone off, and Elain brought out the cupcakes she’d made.

As they were enjoying her sister’s dessert, which was droolworthy like every dish in the past, Elain and Azriel caught Nesta’s attention from the loveseat. She’d noticed they hadn’t spoken much beyond “Hello” and “How are you?” Nesta attributed that to Elain’s innately nervous nature, so she was surprised when she struck up a conversation with him.

“Do you go to school?” Elain asked Azriel timidly, taking a sip of wine.

His head dipped down, tufts of black hair falling into his eyes. “I, uh, work at an animal shelter.”

Elain gasped loudly. She clutched his leg and looked at him with wide eyes. “I love animals! I want to rescue a dog.” Elain began rambling about the bunnies who lived in her garden, the many strays she’d found on the street back in high school, the bird she tended to when she noticed his broken wing.

Nesta watched Azriel smile for the first time tonight. Where most men would cringe from Elain’s incessant chatter, he leaned forward with interest. Nesta could tell he was hanging on to every word that left Elain’s mouth.

As the night went on, Nesta watched the dynamic between everyone. Where Azriel was timid, Mor was booming. She was always laughing at something (usually her own joke), and she made her opinions known. Nesta respected that.

Amren, though? Amren was a creature of her own. She was snarky to her friends, but the love could easily be seen in her eyes. Nesta immediately took to her.

And Rhysand? Nesta was unnerved by how… domestic Feyre and her boyfriend were. They acted like they were a married couple, for gods’ sake. She got second hand commitment phobia just by looking at them. 

When it was time for them to leave, Feyre’s friends demanded they join again next week. Elain promised they’d be back again with a giggle, and Nesta swore she saw the light in Azriel’s eyes flare.

So, once a week, the lot of them got together to hang out. Feyre and Rhysand hosted most dinners thanks to their spacious house but occasionally, Mor and Aurra offered their place which was equally gorgeous.

As the weeks passed, Nesta slowly became more comfortable with everyone – though Rhysand typically avoided her, and she did the same. Though she remained near silent during the nights, Nesta found herself looking forward to the dinner gatherings.

And perhaps, _perhaps_ she could find a home here.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College is kicking Nesta's ass, and she goes to her T.A., Tomas, for some extra help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all SO MUCH for the support you've given me so far! You guys have been so amazing and it only further motivates me to write.  
> Also I know a lot of you guys are having trouble handling the angst so I added in a bit of Elriel fluff for you :)

**October**

It was only a couple weeks into the fall semester, and it was already hell.

Nesta was drowning in schoolwork, whether it be essays or presentations or hour-long projects. She had exams every damn week, so she was at the campus library nearly every day – typically until the sun set and the stars emerged. But even then, her night was far from over. Nesta returned home only to catch up on the work she’d put off for her paid internship. Elain got in the habit of making Nesta tea and cookies when she returned from the library on those ruthless nights. And every damn time, Nesta would wrap her arms around her sister with thanks.

This was her routine for at least four days of the week. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Needless to say, she was fucking exhausted.

The worst part, though? Nesta’s grades were precariously low despite the countless hours she’d been putting in. And she knew exactly what was causing it.

It had been a month since her father’s death, yet Nesta was still waking up in her own sweat every morning after a nightmare involving him. Of him hanging on the edge of a cliff, begging Nesta to save him. Of her dad screaming at her to kill herself. Of her mother dragging Nesta into the other room as he watches idly by. 

Nesta had cursed herself for letting her father’s death affect her in this way. She’d never been one to grieve, especially not for so long. She preferred leaving it in the past. It was easier that way.

Thanks to her merciless professors, Nesta was forced to dedicate nearly all of her time to school, which forced her to neglect her internship. They required she edit ten pieces of work every week, whether it be self-published books, college publications, or online articles. Even though the internship was entirely online – a convenient bonus – she still didn’t have enough time to fulfill the weekly goals. Instead of editing ten works, she was barely scrapping by with five. She’d already received several angry emails from her boss threatening to fire her if she didn’t get her shit together.

And, well… Nesta didn’t get her shit together. On the last day of September, she received that fateful email.

_Nesta Archeron,_

_I regret to inform you that we’ve made the difficult decision of letting you go from Scribner Editorial. While I understand you’re in the midst of earning your Master’s degree, we are looking for editors who can reach – or exceed – the necessary requirements. Unfortunately, you have been lacking in the past few weeks. It has caused other editors to pick up your slack and do more than what we ask for. We are sorry to see you go._

_Sincerely,_

_Ressina Laurent_

_Scribner Editorial_

Nesta read and reread the email dozens of times before closing her laptop. Her head fell in her hands, her shoulders trembling with the weight she carried.

She stared out the window, the world a flurry of red, orange, and yellow. Nesta had worked so hard for this, and all for nothing. She couldn’t believe she’d fucked up such a prestigious internship. It’d paid surprisingly well, and that had been the only income she was receiving. Even with the paychecks from Scribner Editorial, Nesta’s financial situation was holding on by a thread. She had used the money her father had passed down to her to pay off the remaining student loans she owned. Her family never had much money and when it was split in three, it didn’t make much of a difference.

Just like that, Nesta no longer had a job.

_Fuck._

Within ten minutes of receiving that email, she was already browsing online for job opportunities. Nesta didn’t care what it was, as long as it put steady income in her pocket. There was no way she would be able to finish school without a job.

But unfortunately, after an hour of job hunting, Nesta came up empty handed. The only person who was hiring was the large grocery store downtown. They were looking for a cashier. And there was no way in hell Nesta would even consider working there. She’d seen the crowds they got on weekends. The work were incessantly forced to talk with rude, invasive customers. Nesta was far from the realm of customer service.

Nesta was down to her last resort. She didn't give herself another second to overthink it as she picked up her phone from her desk and texted Feyre.

_I was just fired. You know of any job openings in the area?_

Nesta sat by her phone for a couple minutes until Feyre deigned to respond.

_The only one I know if is Rita’s, the local bar. They’re looking for a bartender, have been for months._

Nesta nearly snorted out her coffee when she read the text. Feyre had to be kidding. Nesta, bartending? There was no way in hell she could be a halfway decent bartender – anyone who’s ever met Nesta knew that. She didn’t possess the charm nor the patience, and she certainly couldn’t deal with drunken men who leered at her all night. In Massachusetts, she'd had her fair share of hook-ups, men and women alike. It was night after night of mindless, drunken sex. But then she'd grown up.

Nesta looked back at the soft glow of her computer screen. There had to be _something,_ right?

* * *

Wrong.

After scrolling through hundreds of websites with job opportunities (or lack thereof), Nesta collapsed on her bed. She checked the time to find that it was nearly one in the morning. Rubbing her face, she let out a low groan. Tomorrow was Monday. Gods, why did tomorrow have to be Monday? She was so exhausted that she was feeling physically ill: sore throat, cough, stuffy nose. The urge to skip classes tomorrow was tempting.

But Nesta knew she wouldn't skip. What would she do? A whole day to herself and a head full of intrusive thoughts. The perfect ingredients for a panic attack or two. 

Her gaze fell to the small stack of bills she had yet to pay – that she _couldn’t_ pay. Bills that would only grow.

With that thought in mind, Nesta cursed Scribner Editorial as she grabbed her laptop and searched ‘Rita’s’ on an open browser.

Then, she composed an email.

* * *

The next day, Nesta finally got around to contacting her Fictional Techniques teaching assistant. It was by far her most challenging class, and she despised the professor. A big chunk of her studying was dedicated to that course alone. And since she no longer had a job – for now – she finally had the time to meet with him for extra help.

His name was Tomas. He was notoriously known as the “Hardass T.A.” Nesta had heard her peers complaining about his grading on more than one occasion. It was common knowledge that he rarely gave students any feedback on their essays but when he did, it was brutal. It was practically unheard of to receive higher than a C from Tomas.

Nesta never got below a B+, though. And though she’d never spoken with him, Tomas always gave her detailed feedback on her papers, more so than any student.

So that afternoon, she emailed him.

_Tomas –_

_My name is Nesta Archeron and I am a student in a class you T.A. in, ENG-403 Section 003. I have a couple questions regarding the paper that was assigned on September 28 th. Are you available to meet after class? It would be much appreciated._

_Nesta –_

_Thank you for contacting me. I would love to help you one-on-one. I’ve noticed the work you hand in, and it is spectacular. Your writing is sophisticated, and you have such potential. Coming from someone who has been in the publishing business for years now, I know several companies who would publish your work. Perhaps I can mention your name the next time I meet with them._ _How does tomorrow work? We can walk to the library together, maybe grab a cup of coffee (on me). Let me know._

_Tomas –_

_Thank you. That works for me. I’ll see you tomorrow._

* * *

“Don’t forget to finish up those essays! They’re due on October sixth, and I won’t be accepting anything that’s turned in late. Yes, Mr. Vanserra, I’m looking at you.”

Students snickered as they filed out of the lecture hall. Nesta grabbed her backpack and made her way down the stairs to the front of the room. Tomas had his own desk in the corner where he chimed in during class discussions. 

He was already smiling at her when she approached.

“Hi, Nesta,” he greeted her. He was in the midst of packing his things. “Are you ready to head out?” She nodded.

Tomas had the charm of the boy next door. His dirty blonde hair was cropped short, eyes crystal blue, and he wore an easy smile. It was hard to imagine that this was the guy who gave students Fs for not having a cover page for their essay. 

"Did you want to grab a cup of coffee?" Tomas asked her as they made their way out of the classroom. He shot her a smirk "Like I said, I'll pay."

_Is he flirting with me?_

Nesta prayed to the gods he wasn't. Sure, he was cute and all, but she had no interest in a relationship of any kind. Including a one night stand.

_Perhaps I can use that to my advantage..._

Nesta dismissed the thought immediately. There was no way in hell she would flirt with her T.A. to ensure a high GPA. She wasn't going to sleep her way to the top. That's not how Nesta did things.

_A little flirting never hurt anyone._

She groaned inwardly and shut out that train of thoughts.

Tomas and Nesta chatted while they trudged to the library, backpacks full of textbooks in tow. Much to Nesta’s dismay, he fired question after question at her. Tomas asked about her family to which she miraculously deflected, about her journey to become a writer, and her ambitions. Luckily, Nesta was a pro at this sort of thing, so she simply responded to every question with a question of her own. Not the most subtle approach, but it worked.

The library was teeming with students when they pushed through the doors. Pryth U’s library was a sight to behold. Its foyer was ornate with hand-painted murals, the ceiling stretching far above them. They hopped on the elevator to the third floor. When the doors opened, Nesta inhaled the sweet scent of old books. The bookcases reached the ceiling, thus requiring a rolling ladder in every stack. When Nesta and Elain had toured the campus before the semester began, Elain was quick to jump on the ladder and sing “Be Our Guest.” Her voice was horribly off key. They both burst into laughter, clutching their stomachs until the librarian found and scolded them.

Nesta was pretty sure Elain hadn't stepped foot in the library since.

“Okay,” Tomas said, setting his belongings on a corner desk. He grinned at her. “Ready to be tortured?”

Nesta offered a less than enthusiastic smile. “Let’s do it.”

* * *

After a couple hours of grueling studying, Nesta hurried to the coffee shop on campus. It was five o’clock and she hadn’t had a cup of coffee since the morning. If she didn’t get caffeine in the next ten minutes, Nesta wouldn’t function properly.

The meeting with Tomas went well; he was certainly a helpful resource to have. He'd even offered to meet with Nesta again to prepare for the next big assignment, to which she graciously accepted. There may have been batting of the lashes involved.

Nesta pulled her wool scarf tighter around her neck. Even with a peacoat and a hat, she was still freezing. She let out a sigh of relief when she entered the coffee shop, grateful for the inviting warmth.

That gratefulness disappeared when she looked at the line.

It was at least a dozen people long. Nesta let out a frustrated groan, managing to put a tamper on her anger and hauled her ass to the back of the line.

After a couple minutes of drooling over the scent of fresh coffee beans, she felt a tap on her shoulder from behind.

“Nesta?” a sultry voice asked. The familiar husk in her words had Nesta turning around to see Amren standing behind her. She was staring up at Nesta through her long lashes, a smirk playing on her face. Nesta couldn’t help but admire her feral beauty: chin length hair, angular face, dark and smooth skin, and exquisite makeup.

“Hi, Amren,” Nesta said blandly. “I didn’t know you attended Pryth U.”

“I don’t,” she snorted. “I wouldn’t last one week in college. This is the best coffee around, and I don’t mind driving twenty minutes out of my way.”

_Another coffee snob. Interesting._

“I’m impressed that you even remember my name. I thought you always zoned out during the dinners.” 

Nesta huffed out a laugh, and a hint of surprise flashed on Amren’s face. It was gone a second later.

“It’s tempting whenever Rhysand opens his mouth, trust me,” Nesta replied dryly. “But I have my ways.”

Amren’s eyes lit up with amusement. “Oh, I’m going to like you.”

* * *

That evening, Nesta strolled back to her apartment with a steaming cup of coffee and Amren’s phone number.

It was quiet when she unlocked the door, but the living room light was on. As Nesta dropped her heaving backpack and padded to the kitchen, she noticed Elain sprawled out on the couch, her nose buried in her phone.

“Did you eat already?” Nesta called out as she rummaged through the cabinets. She dug through a shelf for pasta, which was buried under Elain’s many baking ingredients.

When Elain didn’t answer after a couple seconds, Nesta poked her head into the living room. She was still scrolling through her phone, the faintest smile on her rosy face.

“Hello? Earth to Elain?”

Silence. Nesta groaned in frustration. Rounding the overstuffed sofa, she assaulted Elain’s feet with her hands.

Elain’s entire body jerked as Nesta tickled her, pained laughs escaping her mouth. Elain was easily the most ticklish person Nesta had ever met. It made it easy to get information out of her.

“Stop!” Elain gasped breathlessly, laughing all the same. “Please!”

Nesta ceded and raised her hands up in surrender. Elain scrambled off the couch and narrowed her eyes.

"What the hell, Nesta?”

“I was calling your name for a good five minutes,” Nesta crossed her arms. She nodded her head at Elain’s phone. “Anything interesting?”

Elain’s cheeks flushed, and Nesta gasped.

“Is it a guy?” Her voice was threatening. Nesta had always been protective over Elain.

“A guy? No! That’s… that’s just ludicrous. Why would a guy… I mean -"

Nesta let her sister stumble over her words with amusement. She raised a brow. “Show me what you were looking at then.”

“That’s none of your business!”

Nesta gave her no warning as she leaped at Elain.

Elain squealed in surprise, trying her best to deflect Nesta's tickling. They wrestled on the couch, Elain trying desperately to get her phone out of Nesta's reach. But Nesta was taller and stronger.

“Gerroffme -"

“Just gimme -"

“Argh!”

"Ha!" Nesta stood up and held Elain’s phone in her hand triumphantly. Elain was glaring at her from the couch, her hair sticking every which way.

Nesta looked down at the screen to see the Instagram app open. Then, she read the name of the account.

“You’re stalking Azriel?”

“No! I was just following him.”

All Nesta had to do was give her a stern look.

“Okay, fine," Elain threw her hands up. "I think he’s cute. Are you happy now?”

“No,” Nesta glowered, “I’m not happy. He’s basically Rhysand’s brother. I'm not letting another one of those boys seduce my sister.”

“Seduce?!" Elain choked. She shook her head. "They’re best friends! And what does it matter anyway?”

Nesta shot her a leveled stare. “Rhysand’s an asshole.”

“He’s just protective over Feyre,” Elain explained incredulously. “Like you are of me.”

Nesta considered that for a moment. “Touché. But if Azriel hurts you -"

“Nesta!” Elain exclaimed, an exasperated laugh leaving her lips. “We’ve barely talked. I just think he’s handsome.”

“Does Feyre know?”

That got Elain's attention.

“You can’t tell Feyre.” Elain broke out her puppy face: wide eyes, pouty lips, knitted brows. No one in history had been able to resist her puppy face. Including Nesta.

She huffed out a laugh. “I may be a bitch, but I’m not that cruel.”

Elain threw herself at her sister and pulled her into a hug. "Thank you!"

After promising Elain she wouldn't tell Feyre about her crush for the tenth time, Nesta retreated to her room. She was just about to pull out her notes when her phone buzzed in her back pocket.

_I’m supposed to go on a date with this guy tonight,_

_but I just met a hotter guy on my way home._

_Will you judge me if I ditch the first one?_

Nesta looked at the phone number.

Amren.

She could help but let out a small laugh. 

_When in doubt, pick both._

_Both?_

_Both._

_Damn, Nesta, I didn’t realize how savage you are._

A couple moments later, another text came in.

_Both is good._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomas makes an appearance... thoughts? Personally, I'm mad at it (even though I wrote the damn thing). When is Cassian going to return, you say? You'll just have to wait to find out...  
> Kudos and comments always appreciated!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Thanksgiving, and Nesta and Elain are invited to celebrate with the Inner Circle. Unfortunately, the holiday brings back bad memories for Nesta...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie, this was the hardest chapter for me to write so far. I'm sure you'll figure out which scene I'm referring to.  
> It's in the tags, but I just want to warn you guys again that there are mentions of child abuse.  
> WARNING: In this chapter specifically, the discussion of child abuse is more explicit and we see scenes of Nesta experiencing it. Please don't read it if it will negatively affect you.

**November**

Nesta hated Thanksgiving: the cooking, bland traditions, family bonding, football games. It was torture. She despised ‘giving thanks’ at the dinner table; Nesta would gladly kill the fool who came up with that idiotic idea.

To be fair, Nesta loathed every holiday.

But Thanksgiving was the worst… followed closely by Valentine’s Day.

_Fucking Hallmark._

Everyone was invited to Feyre’s tonight to celebrate. Much like the Archeron sisters, none of her friends had immediate family, so every Thanksgiving was Friendsgiving (as Mor liked to say). Feyre assigned each person a certain dish. Nesta was to make an appetizer.

Nesta had burnt _pizza bagels_ on more than one occasion. She’d once baked brownies, but those turned out so rock solid that Elain broke her gods-damn tooth whilst eating it. How the fuck did they expect her to cook a whole ass appetizer?

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” Elain was sitting at the breakfast bar as Nesta flipped through her many cookbooks. Elain - being the outstanding cook she was - had volunteered to prepare the turkey, so she was going to Feyre’s place a couple hours early to get it ready.

“No, you go ahead. I got this,” Nesta assured her.

"Okay," Elain chirped. 

“Nervous to see Azriel?” Nesta asked as she watched Elain shrug on her coat. She wore a pale pink sweater and light jeans, brown boots covering her from the knees down. Her wavy hair fell loosely over her shoulders. Her face was free of makeup, and she was absolutely glowing.

“Nesta, it’s not a big deal,” Elain said, shooting her a pointed look. “I barely know him.”

“It better stay that way," Nesta grumbled back. 

Elain groaned and grabbed her purse. “I’m going to head out. If you have any questions -"

“Yeah, yeah,” she shooed her away. “I have you on speed dial.”

Elain blew her a kiss and walked out the door.

* * *

It wasn’t until an hour later when Nesta finally settled on an appetizer: cornbread. It looked easy enough and more importantly, Nesta recognized all the ingredients. She stumbled around the kitchen for a half hour as she managed to locate all the necessary items and figure out what a 'sifter' was. 

_I mean, really? Why the fuck do I need to make the flour_ less _lumpy? There aren't any in the first place._

The recipe said it would only take thirty minutes.

The recipe was wrong.

After an hour and a half of slaving over the stove, the oven timer _finally_ went off.

"Took long enough," Nesta mumbled to herself as she opened the door and took out the cornbread. 

She didn't realize her mistake until her bare hands clutched the pan. The very _hot_ pan.

“Fuck!” Nesta cried out, pulling her hand back instinctively and shaking it in pain. She gritted her teeth to stop herself from screaming. Nesta looked down to see the damage. The moment her eyes took in the bubbly red skin, she was transported back in time. 

_It was Thanksgiving, and Nesta was seven years old. She woke up that morning with a grin as she thought about cranberry sauce and mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie. Jumping out of bed, she pattered to the kitchen. It was ten in the morning. No one else was awake._

_Nesta sighed, and made her way to the couch. She opened the book she'd been reading - one about magical adventures and strong women - and bid her time until the rest of the house woke up._

_Nesta finished her book in an hour. She was still alone, so she decided to grab a snack from the kitchen. Her mom didn't usually make them breakfast; she slept in late._

_After Nesta gobbled down the granola bar, she decided to wait outside her mom's door. Nesta wanted to be the first one to wish her a Happy Thanksgiving. Then, maybe her mom would let her help with the cooking._

_So, she grabbed a blanket from her room, careful not to wake her sisters, and settled on the floor right outside her mom's bedroom. Her dad slept in the spare room across the hall. Nesta didn’t bother waking him up; he never got out of bed anymore._

_It made her sad._

_Finally, Feyre and Elain woke up. They all whispered each other a Happy Thanksgiving as her sisters made their way to the kitchen to eat 'breakfast.' But right after, they came back and sat with her for a while, their heads resting on Nesta’s shoulders. Elain told them about the dreams she'd had last night while Feyre dozed off on Nesta._

_The clock passed noon. Then one o'clock. Two o'clock._

_All the way until five in the evening._

_When the sun began setting, Nesta convinced her sisters to go play outside – that she’d talk to Mom about dinner. They reluctantly left Nesta to her lonesome but just minutes later, she could hear the shrieks of her sisters across the street._

_Nesta's patience was wore thin. She stood up, legs aching from the hardwood floor. She didn't bother knocking as she entered her mom's room._

_She opened the door to find her mom sprawled out on the bed, limbs splayed and hair rumpled. The room was dark, the bathroom window the only light source. Nesta was almost certain there wasn't even a light bulb in the bedside lamp. Empty liquor bottles littered the grimy floor. Nesta was careful to step around the glass as she approached her mom._

_“Mommy?” Nesta whispered, shaking her shoulders until she rose to consciousness. She blinked groggily, her eyes bloodshot. Nesta smiled tentatively. “Happy Thanksgiving."_

_Her mom didn’t say anything. She simply took in Nesta who was perched on the edge of her bed. Her eyes seemed to darken at the mere sight of her._

_“Uh... we've been hungry all day. When are you gonna cook -"_

_Before Nesta could finish her sentence, her mother was grabbing her arm and dragging her out of the bedroom and into the kitchen._

_“What are you doing, Mommy?” Nesta watched her mother turn on the burner to high. Her eyes lit up. “Oh, I want to help you cook!”_

_A rush of excitement went through her and she asked, “Do you want me to grab ingredients from the pantry?”_

_Her mom remained silent, and Nesta’s enthusiasm quickly disappeared when she noticed the look on her face – it was the face her mom made right before she punished Nesta._

_She didn't have enough time to process what was happening as her mom picked her up and forcing her hand onto the scalding burner._

_Her world shattered. Nesta let out an ear-piercing scream followed by an agonized sob. Her throat burned and her hand burned and her heart burned._ _She tried to take her hand off, to kick out of her mom’s arms, but she was holding her so tight. So tight. Nesta was going to die, she wouldn't be able to tell her sisters goodbye before she went to Heaven, oh gods -_

 _Her mom dropped her on the floor._ Hard. _Her head hit the wooden cabinet, and her teeth rattled with the impact._

_Nesta saw black._

_She was gasping so hard and the floor was spinning. She felt something warm trickle down her temple._

_“Mommy, help!” She cradled her hand. Angry, red blisters covered the entirety of her palm. She could barely see, tears blurring her vision. “It hurts -" she choked on a sob “-it hurts so much.”_

_Her mother sneered down at her, not a sliver of love in her gray eyes –_ Nesta’s _eyes. “Maybe this will remind you why you shouldn’t fucking wake me up! Are you really this incompetent, Nesta?”_

_“N-n-no, Mommy. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Her eyes squeezed shut as if she could transport herself from reality. Take her away from the pain._

_“How the fuck do you think anyone’s going to care about you when you act like this, huh? Fucking hell, you always make everything worse!”_

_“I’m sorry.” Nesta kept repeating the words over and over again until her mom retreated back to her bedroom with a slam of the door._

_When Elain and Feyre came back an hour later, Nesta and her mom were sitting at the table with a few bags of fast food in front of them._

_“I got you all a special treat,” her mom cooed at them with a smile. Nesta had never seen her smile at her like that._

_Feyre and Elain returned the smile and sat down. Nesta passed them the bag from the other side of the table. That was when Elain noticed her hand. She gasped. “What happened?! Are you okay?”_

_Feyre followed her gaze and clamped a hand over her mouth in horror._

_“Mommy and I tried to cook, but I accidentally burned myself,” Nesta told them, a short laugh coming from her mouth – a laugh that said,_ Silly me _,_ I’m so clumsy. _She managed to hide the shake in her voice. She was used to this – the lying. “So we just decided to get take out instead. It's easier anyway."_

 _Nesta felt her mom's eyes on her. They said,_ If you tell them the truth, I will ruin your life.

_But the thing is, she already had ruined it._

Nesta didn’t know where she was. All she knew was the darkness that surrounded her.

She heard ragged breaths. It sounded like someone was dying.

No – it was her. She clutched her throat and felt her pulse. Why was it going so fast?

She felt the cool tiles beneath her body. She was in the kitchen.

She tried to get up, but it was impossible. Why couldn't she fucking get up? Nesta clawed at her throat in panic, sharp nails digging into her flesh until they drew blood. 

She heard a blaring noise.

The fire alarm.

Nesta didn’t remember what happened next. She somehow managed to stand up. Open the windows. Turn off the alarm.

Her vision cleared, and it wasn't just because of the thick smoke that was aired out.

Nesta stared at the mess she’d made.

The pan full of cornbread was thrown onto the floor, shattered glass covering every inch. She peered closer to look at her appetizer. It was mere charcoal now. The entirety of it was black. Inedible.

Nesta stumbled out of the kitchen to the mirror, only to be met with a terrifying portrait of herself. Her makeup was smudged, eyes unfocused. Deep, red scratches covered her throat. Blood soaked the collar of her shirt. She didn’t know how long she stared at herself for. It was Elain’s text that snapped her out of it.

_I called you five times. Are you okay?  
Dinner started ten minutes ago._

Nesta cursed.

_Got distracted. Be there in twenty._

* * *

“Is that… store-bought egg salad?” Rhysand asked as a greeting.

After texting Elain, Nesta ran her hand under cold water for a minute. The burn wasn’t nearly as bad as the one she’d received eighteen years ago. After bandaging it, she scrambled to her bedroom to wash the smudged makeup off her face. Before she rushed out of the apartment, Nesta threw on a thick scarf to hide the self-inflicted scratches. She wasn't going to let anyone see them.

_They already think I’m crazy enough as is._

Nesta was driving to Feyre’s house when she realized she didn’t have an appetizer. With a colorful curse and a sharp turn of the wheel, Nesta made a quick pitstop to the nearest convenience store. She grabbed the first thing she saw which, yes, happened to be egg salad. And of course, when she finally arrived, Rhysand had to be the one who answered the damn door.

“It was actually made behind the dirty counter of a convenience store,” she told him with a sickly-sweet smile. Nesta didn't know how she managed to conjure that smile, how she was _talking_ right now. When Rhysand opened his mouth to insult her further, Nesta pushed past him and entered the house.

“Come right in,” Rhysand mumbled from behind her. She ignored him.

It was easy to do.

Nesta’s heart raced when she walked to the dining room. Everyone was already sitting at the table devouring their full plates. She heard the joy in their voices as they conversed over wine and food. Nesta simply watched them for a moment, a shadow in the corner. She was a stranger to this group of people. A part of her wanted to walk away; she felt like an outsider here. 

_You are,_ a voice hissed at her. 

“Nesta!” Elain noticed her from where she sat. She was out of her seat and tugging Nesta’s hand before she could even blink. Elain led her to the empty seat which was sandwiched between Elain and Amren.

Nesta took her seat and glanced around the table. Azriel was sitting directly across from Elain, the latter of the two careful not to make eye contact. Next to Azriel was Feyre and then Rhysand. Mor and Aurra sat beside each other at the end of the table. 

“What happened?” Feyre asked with a look of concern.

Nesta waved her off, taking the dish of turkey that Elain passed to her. “I burned the cornbread.”

Someone choked on their food from down the table. Nesta didn’t even have to look to know it was Rhysand.

He was pushing her buttons. And tonight was _not_ the time to do it. 

Nesta turned to him chillingly slow. “Do you have something to say?”

His eyes were full of mischief as he scooped a spoonful of mashed potatoes onto his plate. “I’m just wondering how the hell you burned cornbread.”

Feyre elbowed him. No one else joined in on the teasing. Nesta received a weak smile from her youngest sister. _Sorry about him._

She didn’t give a fuck what her sister’s boyfriend thought of her. And after the evening she had, Nesta didn’t bother shooting back with her sharp tongue. She was exhausted. She was only here because... well, because she didn't want to be alone. She didn't want to spend Thanksgiving alone. Nesta couldn't remember the last time she celebrated a holiday with someone else.

It was a long time ago.

“Do you want to take off your scarf?” Elain offered from beside her. “It’s really warm in here.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“But -"

“Drop it, Elain.” Her voice was icy.

Everyone got quiet.

Until Rhysand decided he wanted more attention.

“Sounds to me like Nesta may be hiding a hickey or two under that scarf.”

She slammed her fork onto the plate. Every single person went still. Not even a blink. “And?”

He didn’t even falter. “And it sounds like an improvement. A surprising one at that, but an improvement nonetheless.”

Nesta was seeing red. She felt a delicate hand touch her thigh. She didn’t need to look down to see it was Elain. “An improvement? And pray tell, Rhysand, what am I improving from?”

At least Rhysand was smart enough to recognize he was treading in dangerous territory. That smug look on his face faded. “It was just a joke, Nesta.”

She let out a bitter laugh. Casting a glance at the rest of the group, she realized what a scene she was making. Mor was tense, Azriel about to jump out of his chair at a word's notice. Amren's expression was unreadable, but Nesta swore she saw something like defensiveness in her eyes. Defensiveness for Nesta.

Feyre interrupted before the conversation escalated further. 

“He said it was a joke. No big deal. Let’s just enjoy dinner, yeah?”

A small part of Nesta was grateful for her segue. If Feyre hadn't stopped her, Nesta would have caused permanent damage. 

Elain, ever the peacemaker, added, “Why don’t we say thanks? We were waiting for you to join us before we started.”

That was the last thing Nesta wanted to hear.

But it was better than getting in a verbal fight with her sister's boyfriend, she guessed.

“I’ll start!” Elain exclaimed with a clap of her hands. She was able to diffuse the tension with a flick of the wrist. Everyone seemed comforted. “I’m thankful that I’m able to spend time with my sisters, and that Feyre introduced me to her wonderful friends.”

She definitely avoided eye contact with Azriel.

His slight blush wasn’t unseen by Nesta, though.

“My turn,” Mor sang. “I’m thankful that I’ve found the love of my life -" a secretive smile at Aurra “-and I’m able to share her with the world.”

“Ditto,” Aurra said, her face positively glowing.

Everyone turned to the next person. Azriel. “All of you guys, I guess.” His voice was quiet.

"Boo!" Mor exclaimed. "Too boring. Try again."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm thankful to have such an obnoxious friend. Better?"

Mor grinned. "Yes."

Next was Feyre. "I'm thankful I managed to graduate college without failing any classes."

Her friends cheered, and Feyre gave them the biggest smile."

"All right, all right," Rhysand joked, holding out his hands. "Calm down, people. It's my turn in the spotlight."

It was difficult for Nesta to contain her sneer. She was trying so hard to keep it in that she didn't hear Rhysand's sentiment. 

Too bad.

“You guys said it all,” Amren drawled as she picked her manicured nail.

Mor booed again, but she didn't push Amren for me. Nesta was pretty sure _no one_ pushed Amren and for good reason.

"Nesta, you're last!" Elain smiled. Nesta could tell she was doing her best to keep everyone happy. To keep her eldest sister in check so she didn't embarrass her.

That didn't stop her.

Nesta didn't bother looking at anyone. "I'm thankful that this night is going to be over soon."

No one said a word. The only response Nesta received was from Feyre, who shot her a warning glare. A glare that said, _We're going to talk about this tomorrow._

Somehow, Elain got the conversation back on track. Nesta's comment was disregarded, and the rest of the night was spent ignoring her. Elain and Amren were the only ones who even spoke with her.

When the night finally ended and Nesta was driving back to her apartment, she remembered why she spent so many holidays alone.

_Sometimes, being alone beats being surrounded by people who hate you._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains descriptions of sexual assault and attempted rape. Please do not read this if you think it may be bad for you. It is a bit explicit, and I want everyone to take care of themselves. You're your number one priority <3

**December**

After the disaster that was Thanksgiving, Nesta turned all her attention to classes. Finals were rapidly approaching which was a good enough excuse as any to skip those damn dinners. It certainly didn’t stop Elain from inviting her, but Feyre on the other hand? She expressed no interest in Nesta’s sudden absence. In fact, Nesta imagined her sister breathing a sigh of relief every time she told her she wouldn’t be coming.

Something ugly planted itself within her after the events that transpired just two weeks ago. It churned in the pit of her stomach. It was as if her insides were being twisted inside out. And she couldn’t seem to place the emotion. Anger? Guilt? Embarrassment? All the above?

Either way, she was too busy to think much about it. With finals and her new job, Nesta’s schedule was jam packed every week. She wasn’t complaining. She savored it. She was never left alone with her thoughts. There was always something to do and since all the work exhausted her, she no longer had trouble falling asleep.

After applying to Rita’s, she heard back from them a week later.

_Nesta,_

_Thank you for your application. It’s always exciting to hire a new employee, and I was especially ecstatic when I discovered you were Feyre’s sister. That little rag-tag group stole my heart._

_After reading through your resume, I would love for you to be part of our little team here at Rita’s. I’m not one for interviews (they’re pretty pointless if you ask me), so just let me know when you’re able to start. My family and I are on vacation until the 29 th. I’m looking forward to meeting you._

_Best,  
_ _Rita_

And with that, Nesta was no longer unemployed.

* * *

She started just a couple days following Thanksgiving. Rita had closed down the bar for the holiday, she and her wife leaving town for an annual vacation. According to Feyre, Rita only took off two weeks in the year. And since her family didn’t celebrate Christmas, those two weeks were reserved for Thanksgiving.

Nesta barely slept the night before her first day. She hated new places, new people. New jobs. It was all just… a lot to take in. But she showed up the next day, her anxiety hidden behind a confident stride and a professional attitude.

Right off the bat, Nesta noticed the welcoming atmosphere of the bar. It was a bit rustic, the wooden tables and chairs worn. The vintage bulbs that hung from the ceiling provided warm, dim lighting. The high chairs that sat in front of the bar counter were cushioned with plush, deep red fabric. Nesta looked around the walls to admire the art. She noticed upon closer glance that they all had names of local artists next to their respective work. The small space was elegant, inviting, homey.

Rita didn’t hesitate as she walked up to Nesta and gave her a hug. She stiffened, unaccustomed to physical touch of any kind – much less from a stranger. Rita seemed to read the room and retracted her arms with an apologetic smile.

“Forgive my wife,” a voice said from behind Rita. Nesta looked up to see a blonde woman smiling. Not at her, but at Rita. “She doesn’t have any sense of personal space.”

Nesta watched, amused as Rita stuck her tongue out at her wife. Turning back to Nesta, she waved her hand. “Forgive _her._ She’s just jealous.”

That seemed to be a good enough icebreaker as any. After being introduced, Rita led Nesta behind the bar. The next hour was spent training. Rita told her how she began her business, the bar’s signature drinks, and the other employees who worked there. Apparently, there were only four bartenders excluding herself: Emerie, Helion, Viviane, and Thesan. It had been an hour before open when Nesta had arrived and by the time the clock hit five, Nesta was pretty confident in her drink-making skills. But that wasn’t what she was worried about; it was more the whole “costumer service" thing. To say the least, Nesta lacked people skills. She had no problem calling people out on their shit, and she was going to have to learn how to keep her mouth shut in front of customers. Gods only knew how angry Rita would be.

That anxiety dissipated when one of the workers, Emerie, clocked in. She strode in confidently, her gaze unwavering as she approached Nesta.

“Three things you need to know. First thing, don’t ask me to cover your shift unless you’re dying or you win two tickets to a Beyonce concert, in which case I’m coming. Second of all, wear a lower cut shirt next time. Men are disgusting and won’t spare a look at you unless you flash a little cleavage.”

Nesta crossed her arms. “And the third?”

Emerie pointed to a board behind them, one that Nesta hadn’t noticed when she walked in. “We have a competition going on to see who earns the most tips. Lucky for you, we just started last week. The winner gets full control of the music for a month and as many rounds of drinks they can handle paid in full by the losers. So,” Emerie appraised her, “don’t fall behind.”

Nesta inwardly laughed at the woman’s attempt to intimidate her, especially considering she was a good foot shorter than her. Little did Emerie know, Nesta was competitive as fuck and she would do anything to win. Especially if there was alcohol involved. She smirked. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”

Emerie blinked at her in surprise. Nesta just held her stare.

Then, Emerie’s lips broke into a smile. “Oh, I’m going to like you.”

* * *

Since their first meeting, Nesta and Tomas had studied together about once a week. If Nesta was being honest, she would have completely forgotten about finals if Tomas hadn’t offered to help her study. Her mind was preoccupied with all the other shit going on in her life, and the only reason Nesta hadn’t yet failed that class was thanks to Tomas. She was baffled at his reputation as an asshole T.A.; he’d been nothing but resourceful to her since the beginning of the semester.

At least the job at Rita’s was going well. She liked all her coworkers for the most part. Helion was loud. Viviane was sassy. Thesan kept to himself. Emerie was her favorite. Nesta learned that she had been working there since its beginnings. Apparently, Rita and her wife took her in when she was young, and they’d been like family ever since. Nesta and her couldn’t be more similar. They would complain about customers before they even turned their back. Both of them were no-nonsense women who didn't tolerate bullshit. They were both suckers for romance novels and had a large distaste for country music. And most importantly, they bonded over their hatred for the same people.

It made for the perfect friendship.

But her job was only taking away time that she needed to utilize for academia. Despite Nesta’s efforts to study for the gods-damn exam, she wasn’t prepared in the slightest. During their sessions, she could barely focus. Tomas’s words went in one ear and out the other. When he gave her extra work, she rarely did it. Her mind was scattered; it was as if she was sleepwalking through her days. Wake up, go to class, work, study, sleep. Rinse and repeat. Nesta was exhausted.

So, with the exam just three days away, Nesta didn’t have any other options. She couldn’t fail this course and jeopardize her education.

Her plan was simple. T.A.’s had access to exam answers. Tomas was a T.A. All she needed to do was get those answers from him in one way or another.

The idea had been swirling around in her head for the past week, but she’d always shoved it to the background when it surfaced. After all, it was her last resort. Nesta didn’t cheat. In fact, she despised when people took credit for doing jackshit. It was hypocritical, and yet...

_I can’t fail. Not again._

It wasn’t like it would be hard either. She didn’t have to do much to get Tomas’s attention. That first day she'd introduced herself after class, it was impossible to miss the way his eyes flicked down to her chest every few minutes. Add to that a lip bite and a suggestive glance, and those answers would be hers.

What could she say? Men were simple like that.

* * *

It was Tuesday, Nesta and Tomas's last study session before the exam. 

As Nesta sat at the table eating dinner, which consisted of a cup of coffee and a granola bar, her phone vibrated beside her. Picking it up, she saw Tomas’s name flash across the screen as she received his text. 

_Hey – my roommate had to borrow my  
_ _car so I can’t meet you at the library.  
_ _How about_ _we_ _study at my place?_

Nesta smirked. Gods, he made it so easy.

_What’s your address?_

Nesta retreated to her room and opened her closet. Glancing at the time, she hurried as she grabbed the most provocative outfit she could find. She threw on a lacy, long-sleeve bodysuit that molded to her every curve. Stepping into a skirt, Nesta had to shimmy her hips to pull the tight fabric up, covering only a couple inches of her upper thigh. With a couple flicks of her wrist, she adjusted her makeup and fluffed her hair.

Nesta spared a glance at the mirror. She grinned.

There was no way she would be leaving his place without those answers tonight.

Nesta shoved on a pair of booties and gathered her things. She quickly shut the bedroom door behind her.

“Ooooh!” Elain peered over the couch as Nesta beelined for the front door, her heels clicking loudly on the hardwood floor. “Special occasion?”

Nesta didn't respond.

But Elain didn’t take to being ignored.

Nesta watched as she pulled herself off the couch and faced her with a sly grin. “Hot date?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “I’m going to Tomas’s to study for my exam.”

Elain nodded her head, shooting a look at her that said, _Sure, you are._

Nesta ignored her again, not slowing down.

“Should I expect you to return tonight?”

“Mind your business, Elain. I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

“Be safe!” Elain called as Nesta hurriedly walked out of the apartment.

* * *

When Nesta pulled into his gravel driveway, there weren’t any lights on, save for one on the first floor. She noticed his parked car.

_Weird._

Nesta didn’t bother questioning it, though. Her stomach was already a bundle of nerves. Fidgeting in the skintight skirt, she tugged it down an inch so the neighbors wouldn’t look out the window and catch a free showing.

_Gods, what am I doing?_

Every step she took closer to Tomas's house, the further her heart sunk. It's not like she wanted to do this. But Nesta didn't have any other options. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and she was the one who put herself in that situation to begin with. So it was going to be her who got herself out of it.

 _You're going to hate yourself if you do this,_ a voice warned inside her head.

She shoved away the thought.

Even though her heart raced as she approached the front door, her strut was strong and confident. She didn’t falter for a step.

Nesta released a shaky breath and composed herself. She knocked once and the door was already opening.

“Nesta,” Tomas greeted her, eyes roaming over her body. He wore a polo shirt and sweatpants. She wasn’t sure if she shivered from the numbing winter air or his raunchy gaze. Nesta stifled the urge to zip her jacket all the way to her neck. “I’m glad you made it.”

Nesta pushed past the desire to say fuck it. To just go back home and accept the fact that she was going to fail. Instead, she plastered on a charming smile and giggled softly. “Thank you for inviting me.”

He led her inside. As she followed him, she caught a whiff of something strong. Vodka? Rum? She wasn't sure. But it was coming from Tomas.

_Why the fuck did he drink when we're about to study?_

They walked past the kitchen table. Nesta faltered.

“Aren’t we going to study here?”

Tomas looked over his shoulder with an easy smile. “I figured we could do it in my bedroom. It’ll be more comfortable anyway.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond as he kept walking. Nesta followed him reluctantly. She wanted to seduce him, sure, but there was no way in hell she was going to fuck him for the answers. She wasn't going to go that far.

“Welcome to the man cave.” He gestured to his room.

Nesta rolled her eyes inwardly. _Man cave? Really? Gods, men are insufferable._

When she took a step in, she was assaulted by the overwhelming scent of men’s cologne. She stifled the urge to cough. His room was cramped; there was barely any space to walk. The comforter was brown, along with his pillows and walls.

Nesta hated brown.

The one thing she noticed was none of Tomas’s textbooks were out. In fact, his backpack was shoved in the corner.

“So where -"

Nesta was cut off when she felt Tomas directly behind her.

She spun around to face him. That's when she noticed his eyes. They were red-rimmed and glossy.

He hadn't just had one drink. He was drunk.

“Damn, girl," Tomas leered, taking a step closer to her. Nesta took a step back, trying to keep distance between them. "I thought it was going to take a little more effort than this to get you into my bed, but then you showed up dressed like that."

_What the fuck?_

“I think there was a misunderstanding –"

“Oh, trust me, I don’t think that’s the case.” Then Tomas's arm was around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Nesta tried to back away, but he only held her closer. His grip was tight. Too tight to shove him off.

“Tomas _, no_ – “

“Aw, you don’t mean that, baby. I see the way you look at me.” His mouth pressed against her ear, his hot breath enough to make Nesta gag. “You’ve wanted this for a long, long time. Just as long as I have."

Nesta scanned his room frantically. There were no windows. His bedroom door was closed. And locked.

That’s when she started to panic.

"Can we just talk for a minute?" She willed her voice not to shake. Maybe if she remained calm, tried to reason with him -

Nesta cried out in pain as Tomas pushed her onto the bed. _Hard._

"Please, stop!"

Tomas paid no mind to her pleas as he straddled her waist before she had the chance to get up. Nesta could only look at him with wide eyes as he loomed over her. Fear crawled its way up her throat at the look he was giving her. He placed a damp hand on her hip, his nails digging into her skin. He slid his hand further up, past her stomach until -

_No, no, no nononono._

Tomas palmed her breast over her shirt, squeezing so hard that tears spilled over Nesta's cheeks. She tried to kick her legs but he was so heavy, too heavy. His weight was suffocating, her breathing was rapid and her heart was pounding and she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think; what should she do, what should she do, _what should she do -_

His lips slammed down on hers. Her cry was silenced. Tomas tried to shove his tongue into her mouth, but Nesta kept her lips closed as she squirmed underneath him and kicked her legs. But he remained on top of her. He wasn't budging.

"Open your fucking mouth," he growled against her lips. Nesta sobbed as she kept fighting to get him off her. He kept moving his mouth against hers, forcefully trying to open her mouth until Nesta bit down on his lip as hard as she possibly could.

Tomas reeled back with a hiss and touched his lip with a hand. When he withdrew it, blood shone on his finger. He glared at her. _"You bitch."_

Nesta didn't see his palm coming until she felt the sharp slap on her cheek, her head snapping to the side from the sheer force. The wind was knocked out of her. She felt paralyzed, helpless.

Nesta was motionless under him as his mouth dragged along her bared neck. He sucked on her skin hard even to bruise. Another sob escaped her clenched teeth. Her fists were balled tightly, a scream trapped in her. Bile rose in her throat when Tomas rubbed himself against her. She felt his erection press hard against her stomach, and she nearly threw up right there. His hands fell to the fabric of her skirt as he began to hike it up to her hips.

Something within her snapped.

Nesta didn't know what happened next. All she knew was her fist was burning with pain and she was shoving Tomas off her, sprinting for the door, racing through the house. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins as she heard Tomas yell her name behind her but she was too fast. He was too far behind.

She didn't stop running until she fell into the driver's seat of her car. She didn't bother buckling her seat belt as she peeled out of his driveway.

Sometime along the way home, Nesta stopped shaking. Her tears dried. Her heart stopped pounding. Her thoughts disappeared until she was left only with a silent mind and an empty feeling.

Nesta stared at the road in front of her, and she happily invited the feeling of numbness as it flooded into her body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very difficult chapter to write. I promise next chapter there will be some light: Cassian is returning home (finally). It took a while to build up to it but I'm so fucking excited to see how you guys react! Kudos and comments never expected but always appreciated :)
> 
> I also just want to add something real quick: If you feel that I've romanticized ANY serious topic that occurs in this fic in any way, PLEASE tell me. I will never intentionally romanticize things like this but with that being said, I may not notice if it happens. And that is the last thing I want. I always steer clear of glorifying serious topics like mental illnesses, sexual assault, etc., and I think I do a pretty good job of that. But please bring it to my attention if you feel I have portrayed something in an inaccurate/bad way. Nothing but love for you all <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Thank you all so much for your feedback/love on the last one (and all the others). Every single comment means so so much to me. I love to hear that you guys are as invested in the story as I am!  
> Now enough dilly-dallying. As promised... it's time to introduce Cassian ;)  
> WARNING: descriptions of the aftermath of sexual assault (nothing explicit, but it's the character dealing with the trauma of what happened)

It was Thursday.

Nesta only knew that because it was the day of her final exam.

And because two days ago, Tomas tried to rape her.

When she had returned home that night, she received a text from him.

 _Tell anyone about what happened and  
_ _I will ruin your fucking life. Don’t test me._

After reading those two sentences at least a dozen times over, she’d rushed to the bathroom and emptied her stomach until she was dry heaving.

Elain had been sound asleep on the couch when Nesta crept into their apartment in the late hours of the night. The television was still on, reruns of “The Great British Baking” show playing quietly in the background. Nesta had covered her sister with a knit blanket and shut the television off before retreating to her bedroom.

She made the mistake of looking in the mirror that hung above her dresser. Staring back at her was a girl with hollow eyes and downturned lips. The girl’s clothes were rumpled, her makeup smudged. Dark purple newly formed bruises tainted the entire length of her neck.

She didn’t recognize herself.

Nesta didn’t tell anyone. It wasn’t even because of Tomas’s threat. It just… it didn’t really matter. There wasn’t anything she could do to fix it. It happened and now it was over. Not to mention that Nesta had driven to his house with the intent of seducing him. _She_ was the one who decided to cheat, to wear that provocative outfit.

It didn’t hurt that Tomas was a straight, white male. That he had sway with the professor. Even if Nesta decided to testify against him, she could already predict the outcome: Tomas denies the accusation, gets off with a warning, and Nesta is forced to continue working with him. It was plain and simple. His privilege outranked her trauma.

But even though Nesta hadn’t spoken a word about the incident, Elain was quick to realize that _something_ was wrong. She’d always been good at reading people, especially Nesta. Elain used to say that she could pick up on other’s emotions and it was almost as if she felt them herself. Elain didn’t know exactly what was wrong with Nesta. She noticed the change in her behavior despite Nesta’s attempt to continue to function like a normal human. Elain had tried to get it out of Nesta, to no avail. Nesta insisted that everything was okay. Because it was.

She kept functioning. She showed up for work. Attended her classes. Got out of bed every day. In fact, she was so busy that she didn’t even have the time to think about that night. She took melatonin at night and fell asleep instantly. Nesta was fine.

And now it was Thursday. She was seated in class waiting for the Fictional Techniques exam to be proctored. Over the last two days, she’d managed to buckle down and concentrate on studying. She got a good amount done. Enough to at least pass the damn thing.

But then _he_ walked in.

Nesta froze. Tomas put his things down on his desk and rummaged around. Like everything was normal. Like that night never happened. Like she wasn’t trembling in her seat in terror.

There was nothing Nesta hated more than allowing herself to be vulnerable enough to be scared.

She didn’t think he’d come to the exam itself. T.A.’s had no reason to be present. Typically, it was only the professor. And she especially didn’t think he’d come after the events that’d transpired just days ago.

But Gods, she was so stupid to think he wouldn’t.

Nesta watched as the professor gave _him_ the pile of exams to hand out.

_No._

Nesta’s eyes shot to the doors to her right. She could leave right now without Tomas noticing her. She would just need to sneak out the doors quietly. But the professor’s desk was right next to the exit, and there was no way Nesta could slip past her without drawing attention to herself.

All she could do was wait as Tomas went up and down the rows of desks. She stared down at her hands unmoving as she heard him approach. He was silent when he set the paper down in front of her. But as he walked past, she felt his fingers brush her bruised neck and subtly tug on the ends of her hair.

Nesta was frozen.

“You may begin,” the professor announced from the front of the room. They had two hours to complete the exam.

Nesta looked down at the exam on her desk. It was at least ten pages. She managed to write her name.

But when she tried to read the first question, the words blurred together. Her head was spinning as she willed herself to focus.

 _Two hours and then you’re done,_ she repeated to herself. Two hours. That's it. She let out a shaky breath.

Something told her to look up, to check to see if Tomas was near her. Nesta raised her eyes just slightly to see where he was. She didn’t have to look far.

Tomas was sitting at his desk staring at her, a leering grin on his face. He tilted his head to the side as if to mockingly say, _Something wrong?_

For the next two hours, Nesta didn’t breathe once.

And before she knew it, the timer was going off. She glanced down to see her blank exam. There was nothing written save her name. Not a single answer was filled out.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

She scrambled to write something _– anything_ – as students passed her desk to hand in their exams. Her heart was pounding, her hands damp with sweat. Gods, she was going to fail -

“Miss Archeron, time’s up,” the professor called to her. Everyone was trickling out of the classroom. “You had your time, put down your pencil.”

Nesta’s hand was shaking as she dropped her pencil. It fell to the floor, and she didn't pick it up.

* * *

_I haven’t seen you in weeks. Are you dead?_

Nesta stared down at the text Amren had sent her several days ago. She didn’t know what to say. She was surprised when she’d received the text. Not many people ever checked in with her like that, much less someone she met only a few weeks ago.

She wanted to say, _I'm not okay. Something happened. Can I see you?_

But instead, Nesta ignored it.

“Are you coming tonight?” Nesta was sitting on the couch when Elain emerged from her room.

“Coming where?” She didn’t so much as glance at her sister. Her eyes were glued to the television screen. They had been for the entire day.

“Feyre’s house.”

“No,” she replied bluntly. Iroh let out a meow, and Nesta rubbed his ear.

Elain stepped in front of the television. She was putting on her earrings as she asked, "Why not? You haven't been in a while. We miss you."

Nesta snorted, finally lifting her gaze to meet Elain's quizzical brown eyes. "I seriously doubt that."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, Elain," she scoffed, throwing a hand in the air. "Haven't you noticed that you're the only one to invite me to these dinners anymore? Feyre doesn't give a shit, and Rhysand probably celebrates every time I don't show up."

Elain looked down at the floor and fidgeted. Elain was kind to everyone, but she seldom lied to preserve someone's feelings. Even Elain knew that Nesta was right, that her presence wasn't missed, that there was no point in arguing. "I care," she murmured quietly.

Nesta's heart got stuck in her throat.

 _Why?_ she wanted to yell. _Why the fuck do you care about me? You're the only one left who does._

"It's just not a good time right now," Nesta explained. It was a shitty excuse, and she knew it. But what else was she supposed to say?

“Well, their friend, Cassian is finally coming home today. Apparently, this is the longest he's been deployed for. He was supposed to return last month, but it got extended," Elain told her. "Maybe that'll change things a little. They've all been so worried about him, Feyre especially. I think him being back will help with the stress she's been under and she'll be more open-minded."

Nesta sighed, not bothering to argue. She knew that Elain wouldn't take no for an answer. "I'll think about it, okay?"

It wasn't _exactly_ a lie. Just highly improbable that she would go in the near future.

“Feyre said he’s more hotheaded than you, and that’s saying something," Elain joked, trying to cut the tension. Nesta did her best to muster a laugh. Elain's hopeful smile faltered slightly.

“Well, have fun."

Elain remained standing in front of her for a moment before the couch sank down with her weight as she sat next to where Nesta was curled into herself. Elain's delicate hand closed the space between them, and she tucked a stray hair behind her older sister’s ear.

“Is everything okay?” Elain’s voice was impossibly soft. She squeezed Nesta's hand.

Nesta willed herself not to cry. The physical gesture itself was enough to make her emotional; she hadn't even hugged someone in what felt like forever. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

Silence fell between them. Nesta could practically hear the thoughts racing through Elain's mind. She was always trying to fix other people's problems. But some can't be repaired.

“You… you know you can talk to me right?” Elain said tentatively as if Nesta could blow up at any minute. Like she was fragile.

Nesta didn’t say anything. She _couldn't_ say anything.

Elain let out a small breath, and Nesta could hear the shakiness in it.

“I think Mor made some cupcakes for dessert tonight," she tried to say brightly. Nesta could tell it was hard for her to pretend to be positive. Elain's voice softened. "I’ll bring you back a little something, yeah?”

Nesta merely stared straight ahead and nodded.

The couch creaked as Elain stood. She leaned down and pressed a feather-light kiss to Nesta’s forehead.

“I love you,” she whispered. Elain hesitated for a second before straightening and walking out of the room.

Nesta didn’t even hear the door close when Elain left. All she knew were the tears that rolled down her cheek, one after the other. Just when she thought they'd stop, more would come rushing down. She didn’t brush them away.

_I love you too._

* * *

Someone was trying to open their door.

Nesta didn’t know what time it was. All she knew that someone was trying to get into their apartment. It sounded like they were trying to pick the lock.

She checked the alarm clock that sat on her nightstand. Nearly three in the morning.

 _Maybe it’s Elain,_ the rational part of her brain thought.

Nesta jumped out of her bed, tiptoeing to Elain’s bedroom. She cracked the door open slightly to find her sister fast asleep.

Nesta’s heart raced. She could only think of one person who could be behind that door.

Tomas.

He could easily find out where she lived.

But she hadn't breathed a word of the incident. Why would he be here?

Nesta closed her sister’s bedroom door, ignoring the way her body trembled. She didn’t bother waking Elain. There was no point in scaring her when Nesta was probably just being paranoid. She’d sleep through anything anyway, she slept through a goddamn fire alarm one time. Nesta grabbed the baseball bat that leaned against the hallway wall as she approached the front door.

_Why the fuck do we have this? Who plays baseball in this apartment?_

Nesta crept closer toward the door. She mentally cursed herself for not installing their own peephole. Or security system. Anything.

She took a deep breath before grabbing the door handle with her left hand, bat at the ready. Nesta opened the door and –

“AGH!”

“ _What the fuck are you -_ "

“WHO ARE YOU?”

“Who are _you_?”

Nesta blinked at the man before her, the man who wasn't attacking her. She blinked a couple times before her eyes finally adjusted to the bright lights in the hallway.

They were both breathing heavily as they sized up one another.

“This is my apartment,” he gestured to Nesta’s apartment.

_The fuck?_

She looked him up and down. Mostly up, thanks to his obnoxiously tall height. His chocolate hair was pulled into a small bun, loose strands framing his tanned face. Inked muscles disappeared under the sleeves of his grey shirt. He looked very disheveled, his eyes red from... exhaustion? Alcohol? Both? A suitcase was on the floor behind him, a key in his hand. When her gaze finally met his eyes, she glared at him.

“This is _my_ apartment."

“3A?”

_Gods help me._

"Did you really just wake me up because you don't know how to fucking count?" Nesta snapped, annoyance bubbling to the surface.

The man gave at her with a strange look. She sighed at his incompetence and gestured to the plaque that rested on the wall next to the door. “This is 2A. You have another floor to go, buddy.”

But the man didn’t seem to care that he had just embarrassingly forgotten where his damn apartment was as he peered closer at Nesta.

“Do I know you?” his voice was low and rough. His fingers twitched as if he was going to reach out for her.

Nesta rose a brow. He was really testing her patience. “Nope.”

“I… Did you recently move in? I’ve never seen you here before.” He dragged a hand over his stubbly five o'clock shadow with a thoughtful look. “And I would _definitely_ remember if I had.”

Nesta snorted despite the fatigue that plagued her body. “Does that usually work for you?”

“Excuse me?”

“That line. ‘Oh, I could never forget such a beautiful thing like you,’” her voice lowered as she mockingly imitated the man in front of her.

The man looked like he could burst out laughing. Nesta crossed her arms over her chest. She narrowed her eyes at him. _What the fuck is he laughing about?_

“I didn’t say it was your looks that are unforgettable,” he said, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Nah, it’s more the signature death glare and callous attitude.”

Normally, Nesta would either shoot an insult right back at him or throw a punch. But she wasn't in the mood. Not to be talking to someone in the ungodly hours of the night or to test a stranger's patience. Especially not a stranger who looked like he could easily break through the door and hurt her.

Nesta's stomach sunk at that last thought. Her eyes shuttered closed for the briefest of moments as she reigned in her anger. There was no point in yelling at him, no point in being angry.

_No point in anything._

When Nesta opened her eyes again, a flash of concern seemed to cross the man's face.

She didn't give him the chance to say another word. She was done with him, with this entire conversation. Gods, all she wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep until the world fell away and her mind was quiet.

“Good luck finding your apartment," Nesta told him, her voice monotone. Flat. She didn't give him a chance to respond as she slammed the door in his drunken face.

When she made her way back into her bed, it was already cold. Nesta curled into a ball until she surrendered to the numbness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing the last part of this chapter. I'm super excited about what's to come next! Stay posted for the next chapter :)  
> Kudos and comments are never expected but always appreciated! Love all of you <3  
> My Tumblr: @acourtofmarauders


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nesta and Cassian finally meet. Officially, this time. Strap in, kids. We're just getting started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter you've all been waiting for - that I made you wait almost a month for. I suck, I know. I just got back from college though, so I have a lot more free time on my hands now.  
> I really want to finish this by the time ACOSF comes out mid-January. I don't know if it will happen, so please be patient with me. I really appreciate all the support I've received thus far. It means a lot.  
> If anyone ever wants to send me a suggestion for stuff to add into this fic or if you just want to let me know something you'd like to see happen, either comment here or send me a message/ask on Tumblr! My Tumblr URL changed, so it's now: @inkedstarlight

“Earth to Nesta?”

Nesta snapped from her trance to see Emerie waving a hand in front of her face.

“You’ve been cleaning the same spot for a good ten minutes,” Emerie gestured to where Nesta was scrubbing the counter with a towel. It was squeaky clean.

Nesta let go of the towel and cleared her throat. “My bad.”

Emerie pulled out the chair on the other side of the counter and sat down. It was eleven in the evening on a Monday, and they had just closed. The only other person in Rita’s was Thesan, and he was doing dishes in the back.

“You’ve been acting weird for the past two weeks,” Emerie stated blatantly. Her stare was unwavering. “And you’ve lost at least ten pounds.”

The incidence with Tomas happened two weeks ago. Nesta was doing a pretty good job of moving on with her life all things considered. She felt like shit, but she hadn’t missed a single shift at work. That had to count for something.

But she should’ve known Emerie would notice. She was like a fucking hawk, that girl. She saw everything.

When Nesta didn’t say anything, Emerie shrugged and got up from the stool. “At least try a little harder,” she said, referring to the coworkers' challenge to get the most tips. She shot Nesta a sad look. “Thesan is beating you. _Thesan_ _._ ”

Nesta mustered a laugh. Thesan wasn’t great with customers, that was common knowledge. Neither Emerie nor Nesta were people persons, but they knew how to turn it on for customers. Thesan, on the other hand, didn’t make much of an effort. It wasn’t that he was intentionally rude, the guy was just quiet in nature. In fact, he was a sweetheart.

Which was why it was quite entertaining to watch Helion and Thesan interact. Where Thesan was an introvert, Helion was loud as hell. Not to mention it was clear that Thesan was crushing on him. But unfortunately, Helion flirted with every living, breathing thing and was thus completely oblivious. During Nesta’s first week at Rita’s, Emerie had spilled all the tea about their coworkers. Thesan was head over heels in love with Helion, Helion had never been in a monogamous relationship, and Viviane… well, Viviane had her own little love story. A complicated one at that.

His name was Kallias. They grew up together, from scheming little kids to rebellious teenagers to young adults. Best friends since they could remember.

Because Emerie grew up in the same small town as them, she knew everything. They all went to school together. She knew that Kallias had been in love with Viviane since freshman year of high school. She knew that Viviane felt the same way, but she would never admit it thanks to the hell she was put through during her childhood. Nesta didn’t know the specifics, and she never asked.

It also didn’t help that Viviane was in a relationship with someone else. They’d been together for almost two years. Emerie thought Viviane deserved better, that he wasn’t a very good person.

Anyway, Kallias visited Rita’s nearly every weekend after his shift at the fire station to grab a drink and more importantly, see Viviane.

Nesta thought it was ridiculous. She’d told Emerie as much when she’d brought Nesta up to date on their coworkers’ lives. Why wouldn’t they just admit they loved each other and get on with it already? It was pretty fucking simple; they were just making it complicated for themselves. Emerie wholeheartedly agreed and the pair then went on an hour long rant on the idiocy of romantic relationships.

And if she was being honest, Nesta didn’t care much about these people. Sure, they were respectable but they were a temporary fixture in her life. Once she secured a job in her career field, she was going to leave them all behind.

“We should get a drink sometime. Outside of work,” Emerie clarified with a look of disgust. “I’m sick of it here.”

Nesta knew that was a lie based on the relationship Emerie had with Rita and her wife. But she didn’t say that.

“Maybe,” Nesta responded distractedly, desperate to think of an excuse. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Emerie; no, Nesta liked her coworker. She just couldn’t muster the energy to go out with friends or socialize like that. “I’m pretty busy right now though.”

Emerie narrowed her eyes and scrutinized her.

“Stop analyzing me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Emerie sighed and receded. She hesitated before saying quietly, “Is… is this the part when I ask if you’re okay and we get all deep and explore a new level of our friendship?”

Nesta slowly met her friend’s gaze. They stared at one another for several moments.

Then, they burst out laughing.

* * *

The next morning, Nesta was brewing her third cup of coffee when Elain padded into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Elain yawned as a greeting. She wore bunny slippers and an oversized hoodie. Elain only had one evening class on Tuesdays, so today was her only day - save for the weekend - to sleep in.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“How long have you been up?”

Nesta glanced at the clock. It was nine-thirty. She’d woken up at six after a sleepless night of tossing and turning.

But she simply shrugged instead. “Not long.”

Nesta poured the coffee into her mug, sitting back down at the counter. She watched as Elain bustled around the kitchen, scrambling eggs and slicing fruit. The morning light spilled through the dusty kitchen sink window, bars of sunshine reflecting off the tiled floors. Iroh basked in the sunspots, his black fur glistening as his chartreuse eyes blinked closed.

Elain and Nesta hadn’t spent much time together in the past couple weeks. It was Nesta’s doing, of course. She was actively avoiding her sister and everyone else. After Elain had tried to talk to Nesta after the whole thing with Tomas, she stopped asking Nesta if she was okay. Nesta assumed that Elain realized she wasn’t going to get an answer, that there wasn't really a point in trying.

But Gods, Nesta fucking missed her. And even though she wanted nothing more than to retreat to her bedroom as she sat there in the kitchen, she didn’t move from the chair.

 _You need them as much as they need you,_ her father’s voice echoed in her head.

Guilt stabbed at her chest.

“How’re classes going?” Nesta asked quietly. Elain looked at her over her shoulder with a surprised yet pleasant smile.

“Great! I’m so grateful to be at such a great college, but…” Elain bit her lip, hesitating. “My bio lab is going to be the death of me."

“You know you’re allowed to complain, right?”

Elain just gave her a smile. “Yeah, I know. It's just, considering where I was a year ago, I couldn't be happier to finally be enrolled in such a prestigious program. Even if that means the classes are brutal."

_I wish I was like you. I take everything for granted._

“And have you made any friends?”

Elain had started school at Pryth U months ago and yet Nesta had no idea if she even had friends yet.

_Selfish bitch._

A fond smile broke out on Elain’s face. “Yes, I have this really great group of friends: Lucien, Ressina, and Varian. It's just the four of us, but we've gotten really close.”

Nesta asked Elain more questions before excusing herself back to her room, claiming she was going to try to write today, to which Elain squealed and wished her luck.

Nesta hadn't written since their dad died. Prior to his death, she would write nearly every day. She'd been working on a novel for years. The plot had came to her in middle school, and it just grew from there. She'd never told anyone about it. Everyone knows how fucking hard it is to get your writing published, much less get high ratings. Nesta wasn't even sure if she was going to finish it. This was the longest she'd gone without writing or editing it. And she had a feeling that she wouldn't ever go back to it.

Dread filled her stomach as she thought of that prospect. What the fuck was she doing with her life?

Nesta’s phone buzzed, and she fished it out of her back pocket.

_Incoming call from Feyre Archeron._

It kept buzzing, Nesta merely stared at her sister's name on her screen. She couldn't think of a single reason why Feyre would be calling. But she pressed "Accept" before it could go to voicemail.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

Silence.

“Uh, what’s up?” Nesta asked. She collapsed onto her unmade bed. Iroh scampered past the door and jumped on the bed with her. He didn't waste a minute curling himself around her head.

"I was calling to see… maybe, I don’t know… uh, would you want to come to dinner tonight?”

 _I was not expecting that._ And Nesta was about 95% sure this was Elain’s doing. 

“Why?”

“I want you there," Feyre told her as if it were obvious.

“Why?” Nesta asked again. She hadn't seen Feyre since Thanksgiving despite her sister living just on the outskirts of the city. 

That had been weeks ago.

“It's complicated," Feyre responded quietly. She seemed to pause before finding the words. "I've been so worried about Cassian, we all have. He'd never been deployed for that long - five months. It was scary. I guess I took that out on you. I don't know why..."

She drifted off. Nesta held her breath.

"I'm sure Elain told you, but he's home now. I've been more myself since he returned, and I want you to come to dinner. I… miss you.”

She rubbed her temple. “I don’t know, Feyre.”

_I don't know if I can pretend to be okay for an entire night. I don't know if you even fucking want me there or if you just feel obligated. I don't know if I can be in the same room as your douchebag boyfriend. I don't know if I can be surrounded by your friends, most of whom seem to dislike me. I don't know if I can behave like a normal fucking person._

_I don't know._

“Please?” The plea was soft, quiet. It was like she was almost desperate. But for what?

Nesta looked out the window where a blue jay - their dad's favorite bird - was perched on a bare tree branch. The leaves had long ago fallen, leaving the world naked and vulnerable. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

* * *

Feyre embraced her with an awkward hug when Nesta and Elain walked into the house. Nesta patted her on the back lightly, uncomfortable with the physical touch. Luckily, no one else seemed incline to embrace her. Rhys actually seemed to make sure he was as far away as possible.

Elain, on the other hand, gave everyone a hug. Mor gave a laugh as she squeezed Elain back, Aurra watching them with a smile. Interestingly enough, when Elain greeted Azriel with a hug, his tanned cheeks glowed red. It was almost imperceptible, but Nesta noticed.

Feyre took a step back to assess her. Nesta could see the judgement in her sister's eyes as she took in Nesta's noticeably thinner body. Luckily, however, she wasn't given the chance to comment on it when Elain piped up, "Where's Cassian? Nesta still hasn't met him yet."

"He's running a bit late," Rhys answered, glancing down at his phone. "Should be here in about ten minutes."

Everyone began to make their way into the dining room and Nesta followed. However, she was quickly tugged to the side when Amren swooped in out of nowhere and basically dragged Nesta into the privacy of the hallway. She stopped, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at Nesta.

“Where have you been?” Amren demanded.

"What do you mean?" Nesta asked, playing dumb.

She hadn't spoken to Amren in a long time, even though they had each others' numbers. Even though Amren had repeatedly texted her, asking to get coffee or go for a walk or something else of the sorts. All of which went unanswered.

Amren rolled her eyes, and Nesta was convinced they went to the back of her head for a good minute. "Don't play dumb with me, Nesta."

“I don’t know, working?"

"Is that a question?" Amren rose a deadly brow.

Nesta huffed and mirrored Amren's angry stance. "Why are you interrogating me?"

“Because you've been radio silent for weeks. I had to ask Elain if you were still fucking alive," Amren explained. Then, she leaned in close like she didn't want anyone to hear. "I was worried about you, you bitch."

Nesta let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, okay? I've been busy. I do want to hang out, it's just that..." she trailed off.

"What? It's just that what?"

Nesta stared at the floor, unable to form words.

"Nesta, are you okay?" Amren asked, her voice softer.

_Just tell her. Fucking tell her._

_I was almost raped.  
_

Just the thought was enough to make Nesta want to puke. She couldn't, it was too much and she wouldn't even be able to fucking say it and it's her fault, all her fault.

She breathed in through her nose and looked back up at Amren. She shot her the most fake smile she'd ever given. "I'm good. Seriously, I just got busy. It won't happen again."

Nesta saw the skepticism in Amren's eyes. But she conceded with a small sigh. "Well, don't do it again, okay? I seriously thought you were fucking murdered or some shit."

Nesta just nodded. Amren looked at her once more before gesturing with her chin back to the dining room. Nesta followed her.

When they rounded the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Because sitting next to Feyre was the man who had tried to break into her apartment.

“Nesta!" Feyre exclaimed, calling her over from where she sat. "This is Cassian. Cassian, this is my sister, Nesta.”

Nesta simply stared at him like a deer in headlights and he stared at her, his lips parted in surprise. He was wearing a grey sweater, his long hair hanging down, no longer in a bun like it was the last time. He tucked it behind one ear.

"Are you stalking me or something?" Nesta said incredulously.

"I could ask you the same," Cassian retorted cheekily.

Feyre looked between them, a confused expression written on her face. "Do you guys know each other or something?"

"Something like that," Nesta mumbled.

Everyone's eyes were on them as they waited for an answer.

"Well as everyone knows, I live in the same building as Nesta and Elain," Cassian explained, waving a hand to the two sisters. "The other night, I got stupid drunk with a friend. He drove me back to my place and me, drunk off my fucking ass, tried to get into their apartment thinking it was mine."

The entire room erupted into laughter, Rhys choking on his food and Azriel looking up as if reasoning with the Gods.

"So when Nesta opened the door," Cassian continued, "she nearly beat me to death with a baseball bat."

Another round of laughter.

"Overreact much?"

Everyone's eyes flew to where Nesta sat. They seemed shocked. Nesta was too.

She didn't know why she said it, why she let it bother her. He was just so fucking frustrating, even his mere presence.

Cassian stuck his tongue out at her.

Feyre interrupted, her jaw agape. "You guys are acting like children."

Nesta got quiet after that. The conversation continued, thankfully taking the attention off her. As everyone laughed and conversed, Cassian looked over at her. His smile disappeared when he met Nesta's gaze. She just stared back at him, lips in a thin line. He seemed to try to gauge her reaction carefully, but her face was blank.

And so the night went on. Nesta didn't say another word after what happened. She avoided eye contact with Cassian. Avoided conversation with everyone.

It was half past eight when they all began clearing their dishes. Mor, Aurra, Azriel, and Cassian were all gathered in the kitchen cleaning up. Feyre and Rhys had excused themselves. It was just Nesta and Elain who remained in the dining room.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Nesta leaned over to whisper to Elain.

Elain nodded. "We'll head out right after, yeah?" She must've noticed the exhaustion in Nesta's face.

Nesta agreed, excusing herself from the table.

She walked down the hallway, peeking through every door to find the bathroom. She was about to push through a door on the left that was slightly cracked open when she heard voices coming from within.

“I’m worried about him. He’s not the same.” It was Feyre.

“He never is when he comes home, Feyre," Rhys said dejectedly. "It’s happened before. Cass just needs time.”

_Cass._

Nesta tiptoed closer to the door, just enough for her to listen.

“No, what he needs is to see someone!”

“I’ve tried. He doesn’t want to go.”

“Try harder, Rhys!” Feyre cried, her tone frustrated.

“We can’t just force him to go, okay?”

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing? Do you even notice how lost your own fucking brother is? Do you even care?!”

Silence.

“Rhysand, I’m sorry. Gods, I’m so sorry. I know you care. More than anyone. I just… I don’t want to lose him.”

She heard them both breathing deeply.

“C’mere,” Rhys murmured. Nesta heard Feyre's footsteps as she presumably walked toward him.

“We’ll figure it out, okay?”

“Together.”

“Always, Feyre darling.”

They got quiet, probably embracing each other. Nesta crept away from their bedroom door and into the bathroom before they could find her.

* * *

Elain and Nesta had just unlocked their apartment door when Nesta groaned. “Oh, shit, I forgot my wallet in the car." She fished around in her bag to make sure it wasn't in there. "I’ll be right back.”

"I'll leave the door unlocked," Elain called behind her as Nesta made her way to the elevator.

She stepped between the doors, hitting the button for the parking garage. Gods, she just wanted to go to sleep. The night had been exhausting.

After a minute or so, she was approaching her car. She unlocked her door and grabbed her wallet that was in the middle console when a pair of headlights flashed past her, a car pulling into the spot next to her.

Before panic could set in, Nesta recognized who was driver the car through the window.

Cassian.

His car turned off and he emerged from the driver's door just a moment later. He looked over where Nesta was clutching her wallet to her chest staring at him. He gave her a tight-lipped smile before turning away and walking towards the elevator. Nesta had no choice to follow.

She walked just a few feet behind him as they made their way to the elevator.

"I'm sorry," Cassian told her, his voice sincere. He cast a concerned glance her way. "For embarrassing you at dinner. And if I scared you that night."

"You didn't embarrass me," Nesta snapped at him. "You were just being annoying as hell."

His entire body seemed to relax at her insult. Cassian tried to hide his smirk but failed. "I'm glad to see you're still your normal, hotheaded self. You got me worried at dinner with your stoic behavior."

Now she _really_ glared at him. "Don't talk like you know me. You don't."

"Oh, sweetheart," he teased. "I think we're more similar than you think."

She scoffed. "I think that hubris of yours will be your downfall."

"You know, it's quite sexy when you use literary devices to insult me," he joked.

Nesta froze.

Was he coming onto her? Chills ran down her spine when she thought of the last time a man expressed interest in her.

 _It's not the same,_ she tried to convince yourself. _He's not Tomas._

Cassian must've expected a heated response to his comment because he looked surprised when Nesta simply stared straight ahead. She seemed to be in a world of her own, oblivious to everything around her. Any trace of anger was gone, replaced by a cool indifference.

Cassian's face fell. "Nesta, I didn't mean to - "

He was cut off as the elevator door dinged opened and Nesta swiftly walked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I'm excited because from here on out, there will be a lot of Nessian! Still slow burn, but at least they'll be in the same room now hahah ;)  
> Kudos and comments never expected, but always appreciated! <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first Christmas in six years where the three Archeron sisters will all be celebrating together, and Nesta struggles with feelings of guilt. Also her new neighbor gets on her nerves, making things a little awkward during their Christmas celebration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to bother giving excuses for not updating in more than a month. I feel so guilty about it. Thank you to everyone who is sticking with me throughout this fic; it really means a lot to me considering I suck at posting new chapters.   
> TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains brief mentions of self-harm and depression. Please do what you need to in order to take care of yourself.

_She stared into the water’s depths. Most pools were crystal blue, lapping quietly under the sunshine. This one was different. The water seemed to be thicker, like it was heavy. Dark like an ocean during a storm. Violent, unceasing. But confined neatly in the underground walls of the pool._

_Nesta’s toes were at the edge as she stared into the water with a contemplative stare. She could barely see her reflection on the pool’s surface, for it was distorted and translucent and almost ceasing to exist. No matter how hard she squinted her eyes, she couldn’t tell what she looked like to everyone else._

_It was silent around her. So quiet that the only audible sound was her shallow breaths. Just Nesta and the water and the night. She closed her eyes._

_But all serenity was lost when hands pushed her from behind, launching her into the pool face first._

_She had been right. The water was heavy. That was the first thing she noticed as she sunk lower and lower into the pool, struggling to keep afloat. Nesta squinted her eyes open but it was dark, as if she were alone in space among nothing but stars._

_Except there were no stars below the surface. There was nothing down here._

_Nesta tried to use her arms to propel herself upward, to no avail. Her limbs were moving in slow motion, her kicking legs barely moving an inch. She tried and tried and tried, but she only kept sinking downward instead._

_Her throat constricted with terror as she realized she wasn’t going to make it._

_Nesta’s feet hit the bottom of the pool. She raised her eyes skyward. Somehow, she could now see what awaited above the water’s surface. The water above was no longer opaque; she could easily see through it as if it were a normal pool. But she knew it was anything but. Nesta noticed that, despite the transparent surface, the black water that directly surrounded her still remained. It was like she was trapped in a bubble of her own darkness, light unable to protrude within._

_A shadow reflected off the pool's surface as a figure approached the edge. Her mother stared down at her. She looked so far away, but Nesta could see every pore of her being. A twisted smile played at the curve of her mother's lips._

_“I told you no one would ever love you.” Her voice was muffled, but Nesta heard it as if it had been shouted into her ears. The words rang in her head, echoing what her mother had said over and over again._

_Nesta clutched her wrist instinctively, squeezing tight and feeling nothing. Her lower lip trembled, but no tears escaped her eyes._

You were right, _Nesta tried to say. But when she opened her mouth, she only inhaled water. Nesta choked as she felt it drip into her lungs._

_A dark figure stepped beside her mother._

_“It was your fault,” Tomas sneered down at her. An empty bottle of whiskey was in his hand._

I know, _she tried again, only allowing more water into her mouth. Nesta clawed at her throat as if she could release the water that was burning in her lungs._

_Her father appeared next._

_“You're the most selfish person I know,” he accused. Disappointment was written all over his face. “You are useless to this family."_

_Nesta agreed. She choked on another mouthful of water._

_Then,_ she _came to the edge of the pool. Her hair was a mousy brown. It could have been beautiful if it weren’t twisted in knots full of neglect. Nesta could nearly see every bone in her body. Her teeth rotting from starvation, her skin bumpy with acne. She was fragile, but her eyes could destroy. Her arms were exposed, red crisscrossed cuts visible all over. It was like looking at Death itself._

 _“You don’t deserve to live," the girl's voice -_ Nesta's _voice - was cold and unforgiving._

_This time, Nesta didn’t say anything. She didn't have to._

_She just opened her mouth and invited the water to fill her lungs. A small, haunted smile played at her lips as she drowned._

_Everything turned black._

_The water went still._

Nesta awoke with a gasp only to be blinded by the bright light of the morning. Sunlight peered through the half-closed blinds and into her dusty bedroom. She looked down to see that the sheets were tangled up around her sweaty body, the comforter thrown completely off the bed. A quick glance at the clock told her it was just past eleven.

She noticed Iroh staring at her from the foot of her bed as if he were waiting for her to wake up. She patted the empty space next to her and he immediately slinked his way closer to her. With a quick nose-boop and a lick on her chin, he purred as Nesta gently stroked his impossibly soft fur. She tried to control her breathing as she comforted Iroh.

Her night terrors were getting worse. She’d always had them, sure, but they’d never been this frequent - nor this vivid - since her undergraduate years in college. Now, they were happening nearly every night. Often enough that Nesta didn’t even bother to try to sleep some nights. She was scared to see what her consciousness had in store for her when she conceded to sleep.

Nesta wiped off the sweat on her forehead and pinched the bridge of her nose. Her head ached painfully, most likely due to the millions of thoughts that were constantly circling in her head. She checked her phone and groaned when she noticed the date. She’d completely forgotten today was Christmas.

With a heavy sigh, Nesta managed to heave herself off the messily made bed. With a quick look at the sheets, she noticed the wet spot on the pillow, most likely from tears that were shed throughout the night.

_Pathetic._

Opening her door and padding to the kitchen, Nesta noticed the wreath Elain must've hung on their door. It looked like a massive flower crown rather than a wreath. It screamed "Elain."

Before Nesta could make her way to the fridge to take a couple sips of whatever the fuck kind of alcohol they had, something else caught her eye as she passed the front door.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

“Elain!” she called out for her sister, her eyes still on the door, unwavering.

Elain popped her head from the kitchen archway. Her cheeks were covered in flour, and she was wearing her chef hat. She looked adorable. “Merry Christmas, sleepyhead! What's up?”

Nesta pointed to the very obvious new locks that were now on their door frame. “Did you install new locks on our door?”

Elain followed her gesture and seemed to hesitate. “Er, no... not exactly.”

Nesta tapped her foot on the floor and waited for her to finish. 

Elain raised her hands in surrender and sighed. “Okay, okay. Cassian _may_ have come by early this morning.” Nesta’s mouth dropped to the floor. “I tried to pay him but he said it was a Christmas gift.”

Elain must've seen the anger on Nesta's face. She knew – both from what Nesta had told her and the behavior she’d noticed – that Nesta wasn’t exactly a huge fan of Cassian. Sensing that Nesta was seconds away from stomping her way to Cassian's apartment, Elain called out, "Nesta, just wait - "

But she was unable to finish her sentence. Nesta was already storming out the door and up the stairs to the third floor.

Air whooshed in her ears as she climbed up the stairs. She was pissed. No, that was an understatement. She was livid.

Why the fuck did Cassian find the need to insert himself into their lives beyond the “family” dinners they attended? She had no interest in seeing his face outside of Feyre's house. She didn't want him to interfere with her and Elain's lives. It wasn't like they needed help - _she_ certainly didn't need his help.

_What’s he playing at?_

As she approached Cassian's door, a thought wiggled its way through the angry cloud in her head.

Nesta wondered... wondered if she would have been this bothered if she hadn't awoken to that nightmare this morning. Would she even pay Cassian any mind? Would she perhaps be thankful for what he did?

She scoffed inwardly. No, her moodiness was Cassian's doing. He was responsible. And he was going to pay for pissing her off. 

She banged loudly on the door, not a care in the world if she woke up his neighbors.

A few seconds passed before the door opened, revealing Cassian. He was wearing a white tee and low-hanging, grey sweatpants, hair sticking out in every which way. His eyes were red with exhaustion as if he’d only gotten an hour or two of sleep. Dark purple shadows were under his eyes. Gods, he looked horrible. 

It was then that Nesta remembered what she’d overheard from Rhys and Feyre’s conversation the other night.

_He's not the same._

_Do you even notice how lost your own fucking brother is?_

_I don't want to lose him._

In all honesty, Nesta forgot that Cassian had been in the Marines for five months. Maybe it was because he - along with everyone else - hadn't even mentioned it since meeting Nesta.

On the other hand, his physique was certainly a reminder of the time he served. 

But Nesta blocked out her sister and Rhysand's conversation. She wouldn't allow herself to have an ounce of sympathy for this man. 

Nesta didn’t waste a second as she shoved a twenty-dollar bill in his face. “Here.”

She was prepared to storm away from him right after, but she paused as he looked down at the money with a puzzled expression. “Uh, what –“

“For the locks,” Nesta explained impatiently. _You dumb oaf,_ she wanted to add.

Cassian looked up from the money and raised a brow at her. Shaking his head, he extended it back to her. “I don’t want it.”

“It’s not a request,” Nesta seethed. “Take the damn money. I don’t want your charity.”

“Charity?” he repeated, baffled. She noticed that his hand tightened around the money he held. 

Nesta only narrowed her eyes in response.

He sighed and leaned on the doorframe, realizing that this wasn’t going to be an amicable conversation. “It’s not charity.”

“Isn’t it though?”

“No,” Cassian told her, finality in his tone. He was getting frustrated. _Good._ “It’s a friendly gesture because I was the one who broke them in the first place.”

They both glared at each other.

“I don’t want to be your friend,” Nesta spat, craning her neck just to be able to glare into his eyes. Gods, he was tall.

“I never asked you to be my friend,” he growled impatiently. His voice was getting louder. Sighing, Cassian tried to compose himself. “Rhys – who will more than likely become your brother-in-law – is my brother. That means we,” he gestured between them, “are going to see a lot of each other, whether you like it or not.”

Nesta chewed her bottom lip in contemplation. She wasn’t quite sure what it was about Cassian, but there was something that just… irked her. Maybe it was his arrogant attitude or the way he taunted her or the way he reminded her of herself. Either way, he was a thorn on her side and she wanted him out of her life. But she knew that wasn’t quite a possibility, unless she decided to up and leave her family again.

That wasn’t an option though. Not this time. Not again.

“If I could get your brother out of my sister's damn life, I wouldn't hesitate for a second," Nesta snapped. "But for some reason, Feyre likes your fucked up family. So just stay out of my fucking way, okay?” 

She didn't care how cruel it was. She wanted to get a reaction out of him. 

She wanted him to hate her.

Cassian stared at her speechlessly for a moment. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words, but decided against it. He turned away to close the door in her face. 

Nesta scoffed at his back, just loud enough for him to hear.

Cassian stopped in his tracks, turning slowly to face her once more. 

“You know, I thought maybe we could be friends,” he laughed humorlessly. “I thought the locks could be a peace offering. But then you opened your mouth and Gods, was that just a fucking treat,” he spat out before taking a step closer to her. "Insult me, that's fine. But insult my family again, and I'll make the time we spend together a living hell."

Nesta’s fists clenched tightly at his words. "You've already done that."

Cassian shot her a smirk. "What can I say? It's pretty entertaining to watch you lose control."

_Ugh!_

“Gods, you’re insufferable!”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Nesta," he sang before slamming the door in her face.

“Fuck you," she told him, but it was too late. Cassian had already gotten the last word in. 

It wasn’t until she got back to her apartment did she realize that the twenty-dollar bill had been slipped into the pocket of her jacket.

She cursed Cassian all the way to hell.

* * *

It was about five o’clock in the evening when Elain and Nesta drove to Mor and Aurra’s house; they took turns hosting every once in a while. It was dark outside, the lampposts on the side of the street providing a soft, yellow glow. In its light, the flurries of snow were visible as they floated down, down, down. The radio was on, a Christmas tune playing quietly in the background. Elain was staring out the window, dessert in lap, as Nesta drove.

Nesta was tapping her thumb on the steering wheel when Elain turned to her.

“You know, we haven’t spent a Christmas together in…” Elain trailed off as she tried to count.

“Six years,” Nesta finished quietly. She didn’t need to do the math. No, she knew exactly how many years ago she’d lost her family.

A contemplative silence grew between them. Nesta shifted uncomfortably, her words hanging in the air.

“Well,” Elain murmured, turning to look at Nesta. She reached across the center console and took the hand that was resting on Nesta’s lap. “I’m happy we’re together. I… I hope we spend the holidays together even after this year.”

 _We will,_ Nesta promised silently. She wasn’t sure if it was a promise to herself or to Elain. It didn't matter because she had every intention of keeping it. 

They turned onto Mor and Aurra’s street and pulled up to their driveway. There were several cars parked next to each other. Nesta recognized Feyre and Amren’s car. Her eyes slid to the one next to Amren’s. She recognized it from her building’s parking garage. Cassian.

Elain began unbuckling her seatbelt when Nesta stopped her. “I, uh… I actually wanted to give you your gift here,” she explained, biting her lip. “Privately.”

Elain smiled. “Okay.”

Nesta handed her a poorly wrapped box. “I suck at giving gifts, as I’m sure you remember,” she prefaced.

Elain giggled. “How could I forget? That was the best part of every Christmas,” Elain remembered fondly. “Feyre and I would always look forward to getting your gift. Remember that one year you captured all those fireflies in a jar, but when we opened them on Christmas Day, they were all dead?”

Nesta nodded with a little smile "You thought I did it on purpose. You kept screaming 'How could you?!'"

Elain burst out laughing. "I was quite the dramatic."

"No," Nesta murmured. "You're an empath, and I love that about you."

Elain's eyes widened in surprise, but it was quickly replaced by a smile that could melt hearts. "Nesta, I - "

"Just open the damn gift," Nesta joked. Elain conceded, but not before leaning over to plant a small kiss on Nesta's cheek.

Anxiety filled Nesta's stomach as she watched her unwrap the box with a delicacy only Elain could possess.

“It’s…” Elain’s brow twisted as she inspected it. "Cookie cutters?"

Nesta nodded in confirmation. She'd found them online the other week. They were pink plastic formed into different kinds of flowers and very clearly made for kids. But Elain loved pink and flowers, so Nesta was quick to add them to her shopping cart.

"I know that you don't bake cookies that often, and I know they look like they're made for kindergartners, but - "

"I love it!" Elain squealed, clutching them to her chest. "I've never had cookie cutters before!"

Nesta held her breath. "You don't have to pretend like you like them. I have the receipt."

Elain turned her body to her and gave her a reassuring smile. "I'm not pretending. They're from you, and I love them."

The sisters hugged each other before gathering their things and heading to the house.

It was boisterous inside. Christmas music played on the speakers as everyone chatted and laughed with each other. Right as Elain hung her jacket in the closet, Azriel approached her with a smile. She grinned up at him, cheeks flushed as if she'd had a few drinks. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the living room.

As Nesta walked past the foyer, she saw Cassian talking with Azriel at the bar area. He seemed to sense her stare, because his eyes met hers in just a matter of seconds. She quickly looked away and approached Amren.

"You're looking cute," Amren complimented her as a greeting. Nesta was just wearing a grey knit sweater and dark jeans, her golden hair flowing down her shoulders. She didn't often wear it down.

"You look hot," Nesta shot back with a grin. Amren was always stylish in her clothing. Tonight, she had on a long-sleeved black velvet dress, adorned with a ruby necklace and earrings. "Cute" didn't quite do her justice.

Amren reached behind her and grabbed a full wine glass to hand to Nesta. "Here. You're going to need this."

Nesta gratefully accepted, taking a gulp or two before leveling a stare at her friend. "What does that mean?"

Amren shrugged. "There's always some sort of drama on the holidays. Especially with you and Rhysand in the same room. What's with that?"

Nesta snorted. "I have a feeling my dear sister shared a little too much information about me to her wonderful boyfriend."

"Rhysand can be difficult," Amren agreed, taking a sip from her wine glass. "He just wants to protect people he loves. But with that being said..." Amren leaned in closer and whispered, "He's being a fucking asshole, in my personal opinion."

"Cheers to that."

Just as Nesta was about to tell Amren about her interaction with Cassian that morning, a loud shattering noise interrupted them. Nesta looked to the other side of the room where Elain was staring down at her broken wine glass that had fallen on the floor. Mor came over with a broom and paper towels, and Elain apologized over and over again. Mor just laughed it off and reassured her it was okay.

Everyone resumed their conversations, but Nesta noticed Cassian was frozen in place, his eyes still on the shards of glass that were pooled in dark red wine. He didn't look as though he was breathing, and she saw his hands shaking at his sides. His face was pale like a ghost. He looked... haunted. 

Nesta took a step forward but stopped when Rhys walked up to Cassian. He leaned in close and whispered something. Cassian's stare didn't falter, but he nodded absentmindedly at what Rhysand had said. Then, Rhysand guided him into the hallway. And although they disappeared from her view, Nesta found herself continuing to stare in their direction.

* * *

Nesta was sitting on the couch after dinner, her third glass of wine in hand, when the cushion next to her sunk with someone’s weight. She looked to the left to see Cassian sitting beside her. 

Rhysand and Cassian were gone for about fifteen minutes before returning to the festivities. They both came back looking better, though Cassian remained quieter for the rest of the night. No one mentioned their brief absence. 

"I know you saw."

Nesta barely heard his whisper as everyone gathered around the tree in the living room. No one was paying attention to them.

"I don't want your pity."

She didn't even look over to him as she responded. "Good. You don't have it, asshole."

Nesta could have sworn she saw him smile out of the corner of her eye.

As everyone began opening gifts, Nesta moved to the armchair that sat in the corner. It had been a long night, and she was utterly exhausted. She observed as everyone traded gifts. Since Nesta had already given Elain her gift, the only other person she needed to give a present to was Feyre. Luckily, Elain's present for her was arriving late so Nesta didn't have to worry about opening that in front of everyone. She'd assumed that no one else would be expecting a gift from her, nor would they give her something. She'd assumed correctly.

It was nearing nine o'clock when only a few gifts remained under the tree. Nesta's heart stopped when Rhysand handed a present to Elain. She knew he hadn't gotten her one, and that was fine. She didn't give a fuck if Rhysand liked her or not, much less if he gave her a Christmas present. But to make it so apparent in front of everyone? To deliberately not give her a gift? Could he be more of a dick?

Nesta willed herself not to turn red with embarrassment as Elain began opening the gift. She didn't even want to know if anyone noticed. 

Elain thanked Rhysand after unwrapping the customized cookbook stand. It was fucking engraved with Elain's name on it. _Engraved._

After the final gifts were given out, Nesta looked down at her lap to see what she'd received. Feyre had gotten her a $20 gift card for gas. And that was it.

She didn’t belong here. It was like they were sending the message to her in all caps.

But then Amren threw something at her. And it wasn’t a softball toss – no, she _chucked_ it at Nesta. Caught off by surprise, Nesta just barely caught the neatly wrapped package. She merely looked down at it before raising her eyes to where Amren sat.

Her friend was smirking and tilted her chin at the gift, silently demanding Nesta to open the damn thing.

Everyone watched with curiosity as Nesta opened her gift. She held up what was inside and inspected it.

It was a homemade bracelet. The kind that six-years make for their friends. Only, instead of multi-colored beads, they were just black. And instead of the words "BFFs Forever" or some shit, it said, "Amren is my best fucking friend."

Nesta stared at it. Then she laughed. Not a fake one. A real, loud laugh. A sound she hadn't made in months. It was brief, but it took everyone by surprise.

She grinned across the room at Amren, whose eyes were full of mischief. 

_Thank you,_ Nesta mouthed.

 _Whatever, bitch,_ Amren responded with a wink.

Everyone around them began to clean up the wrapping paper that littered the floor. Nesta remained seated. She put the bracelet on and admired it.

If Nesta had looked to where Cassian was sitting quietly on the other couch, she would have seen the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a pretty long chapter, and I hope you guys enjoyed it! What'd you think? Also, Happy late New Year! I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy.   
> Comments and kudos are never expected, but always appreciated :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inner Circle rings in the New Year.

“I fucking hate the holidays,” was Emerie’s greeting to Nesta a couple days after Christmas.

Nesta glanced up from the drinkware she was cleaning to watch Emerie hang her jacket on the hanger in a huff. Her raven hair was pulled back in a loose braid, her eyes lined thickly with kohl and mascara. Nesta couldn’t help but smirk with amusement. “I take it seeing the family didn’t go well?”

Emerie snapped her head to glare into Nesta’s eyes. “They spent all of Hannukah lecturing me about doing something else with my life, something more respectable than 'slinging drinks around a dirty bar,’” she recalled with air quotes, her lip curled in disgust. 

Nesta dried the last glass. She threw the towel on the counter and turned to face her coworker. Crossing her arms, Nesta inquired, “And your response was?”

“I threatened to go into sex work.”

Nesta quirked a brow. “I thought you already worked at Euphoria on the weekends. If I recall correctly, you invited me to watch one of your performances.”

“Yes, Nesta, I'm aware that I'm already a stripper. That's the beauty of it. I threaten to join an even more unconventional line of work so they will accept my moderately unconventional job. They would much rather I bartend than strip.”

Nesta snorted. “I can’t argue with that logic.”

Before Emerie could try to convince Nesta to visit her at Euphoria again, Helion swooped in from behind them. He planted a loud kiss on Emerie's cheek. She feigned disgust, wiping the spot where his lips had been. Turning to him, Emerie smacked his chest playfully.

"Hello to you, too. You look ravishing," Helion wiggled his eyebrows with a wolfish grin.

Emerie rolled her eyes. "I'm immune to your charm, Helion. You should know that by now."

Helion gave her a questionable look that said, _You sure about that?_

He then turned his attention to Nesta with a grin and took a step forward - most likely to try to kiss her cheek as well - but he was quickly met with a death glare. He did this every time he came into work, and Nesta always rejected his affection. She had to admit he had balls for not giving it up.

Then again, he was a certifiable slut.

Helion's hands were raised in surrender when he turned to address both of them.

“I see you ladies are falling behind," he said, nodding his head to the current score of their little competition. Helion had titled the game, "Who's Got the Biggest Tip?" with an obscene drawing next to it. 

Nesta looked behind her at the chalkboard. She was in last place.

The tip competition hadn’t even crossed Nesta’s mind. What with college, Tomas, and family, she wasn’t quite prioritizing the opportunity to man the music at _Rita’s._ Free booze on the other hand... _that_ she could get with. 

“Hey, I’m not that far behind you!” Emerie protested. “It’s Nesta who’s lagging behind.”

They both turned to her. Nesta merely stood there as they inspected her, Helion rubbing his chin in contemplation while Emerie tilted her head as if she would see something different horizontally.

“I’m not entirely surprised,” quipped Helion. “I mean, she’s gorgeous, but if looks could kill…”

Emerie hummed in agreement. She gestured to Nesta’s chest. “The uniform does wonders for her tits. It’s just once you get to the face. The hair can be let down, maybe pinch some color on her cheeks.”

Nesta continued to give them a blank stare. She was highly unamused. 

“Don’t forget the smile,” Helion chimed in.

“How could I forget? Gods, her resting bitch face is even worse than mine.”

"There's potential, though."

"Undoubtedly."

Before the mischievous duo decided to go all "Miss Congeniality" on her, Nesta interrupted their daydream. “Are you guys done?”

Her question brought them back to reality. Helion sighed. "Yeah, I guess. Time to make some tips."

With that, the three of them got to work. Throughout the night, Nesta found herself trying to smile more. At customers, at Emerie and Helion. But every time she managed to pull her lips up, an invisible weight seemed to drag them back down to a deep frown.

Smiling had never been so hard.

* * *

They were celebrating New Year’s Eve at Feyre and Rhysand’s place. Nesta hadn’t been looking forward to it considering they had all just gotten together on Christmas Day. Seeing her sister’s asshole of a boyfriend and her infuriating neighbor biweekly was enough for her, thank you very much.

The night was uneventful. Elain had volunteered to be the designated driver, so Nesta took the opportunity to have more than just a couple drinks. By the time the clock struck 11:30, Nesta was far gone. She rarely ever got drunk in social situations, instead choosing to get fucked up in the comfort of her own home. The last thing she wanted was to lose control and do something she would regret the next morning.

But all those worries were thrown out the window the minute she had her first sip of liquor. 

Nesta hated the phenomenon of New Year’s resolutions. She hated the idea of self-reflection, of changing, of setting a personal goal. It was bullshit. She felt this obligation to be better. To change into an entirely different person, someone sensitive and warm and outgoing. In other words, someone - _anyone_ \- except for herself. It was suffocating.

So as Nesta downed drink after drink, she watched the people around her – she doesn’t quite consider them friends, save for Amren – waiting for the new year to begin. Particularly Elain and Azriel.

Since Elain confessed her feelings for Azriel to Nesta – though some may say Nesta _forced_ Elain to spill the beans – Nesta had been watching them like a hawk. Elain hadn’t yet been in a relationship, at least to Nesta’s knowledge. Perhaps that was why Nesta felt so protective over her sister. That, or because she was the most gentle person Nesta knew.

Nesta didn’t know much about Azriel. Their conversations had been scarce. All she really knew was what Elain told her. He had grown up across the street from Cassian and Rhysand, and the three of them had been thick as thieves since childhood. While Rhysand attended Pryth U and Cassian joined the Marines, Azriel stayed home after graduating high school to take care of their mother, much like Elain with their father. But their mother died just a few months after the three boys graduated. After working a couple minimum wage jobs, Azriel founded a local animal shelter a couple years ago with his friend and since then, his entire life had been dedicated to it.

From what Nesta could tell, Azriel seemed like a good man. But she could tell he still struggled with things from the past. And it wasn’t just the scars on his hands that gave it away. Feyre had briefly mentioned to Nesta that Azriel had gotten in trouble with the law many times in his younger years. Although Feyre didn't elaborate on his wrongdoings, Nesta couldn't help but imagine the worst. 

Nesta would be lying if she said she didn't see similarities between herself and Azriel. The scars, the haunted looks, the guarded demeanor. And because she knew that there was no way she could possibly be in a healthy, functioning relationship, she had a feeling that Azriel couldn't either. It was painfully clear that he hadn’t yet dealt with whatever trauma he’d experienced. If he were to get into a relationship with Elain, it would only end in heartbreak for her. 

Nesta watched from the kitchen table as Elain and Azriel played the Wii. Nesta could tell just by Elain’s body language that she was smitten. Her entire body leaned towards his when they sat next to each other to take a break from their “bowling” competition. And while Azriel engaged with her, Nesta noticed the hesitance in his expression, the way he shied away when Elain got too close. Almost like it was a reflex.

Nesta's hand twitched. She wanted to interfere.

 _It’s Elain’s life,_ Nesta reminded herself. _As much as you worry, she has to be the one to make her own decisions._

With that uneasy thought, Nesta relaxed back into the kitchen chair she was sitting on and took a large gulp from the mixed drink she held. Everyone was mingling in the living room as Nesta watched from the breakfast bar. All their backs were facing her, offering her the slightest bit of solace knowing that no one was paying attention to her. 

She hadn't seen much of Cassian tonight. They both seemed to be holding themselves to their agreement to distance themselves from one another. He seemed perfectly content to stay out of Nesta's way, and Nesta felt the same. She just couldn't help but be surprised he hadn't tried to get a rise out of her.

At least, not yet. There was always time.

Nesta loathed the way Cassian was able to get under her skin, hated the way he made her feel. She didn't understand it. He was virtually a stranger and yet he made her blood boil. And all because he found it entertaining to watch her lose control? Gods, he was twisted.

As the thirty-second countdown began, the couples paired off. Mor grabbed Aurra until nothing separated them. Feyre leaned against the wall and Rhysand rested his hands above her head. That only left Azriel, Elain, Nesta, Cassian, and Amren.

Cassian and Amren remained seated on the couch that was directly in front of Nesta. Amren was whispering to him, no doubt making fun of every couple in the room. They laughed together. Then of course, Azriel turned to Elain with a shy smile.

And that left Nesta sitting alone at the bar, her drink half empty. Her glazed over eyes followed Elain and Azriel.

_Ten._

They looked at each other. 

_Nine._

Azriel took a couple steps closer.

_Seven._

Azriel dipped his head to Elain’s ear and whispered something.

_Five._

Elain blushed. She looked up at him and nodded with a smile.

_Three._

Azriel gripped her waist with one hand and pulled her in.

_Two._

Elain melted into his touch.

_One._

They stared deeply into each other’s eyes.

_Zero._

Azriel pressed a soft kiss on Elain’s cheek. She closed her eyes as if she were trying to savor it, to hold onto that moment for as long as she could. Azriel’s lips reluctantly left her cheek, only for him to lean his forehead on her temple. Their chests rose and fell heavily, their breath seemingly in sync. They remained like that for a moment, both unwilling to let go of one another. It wasn’t until Rhysand hooted, “Happy New Year,” that Azriel broke away from her and re-entered the present. Eyes wide, all they could do was blink at each other, the air between them palpable with uncertainty and excitement and pain and hope.

Everyone around them was cheering. It was almost too loud for Nesta. Her ears rang.

As everyone around them laughed and yelled, Cassian looked behind his shoulder from where he sat and his eyes met Nesta’s. 

They looked at each other for the briefest of seconds before Nesta flipped him off.

Nesta could've sworn Cassian's eyes brightened before he returned the gesture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a pretty short chapter. It was meant to show the growth of other characters and their relationships, so my apologies for the minimal Nessian content in this one. If any of you guys have any suggestions as to what you want to see or changes you think I should make, please don't hesitate to let me know! I'm always open to stuff like that. As always, thank you for reading <3  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated but never expected!

**Author's Note:**

> Yay chapter one! If you're thinking to yourself "Wait, weren't chapter one and two of Bittersweet already posted a couple weeks ago?" you are correct! I decided to delete that and start anew because I didn't have much written at that time. But this one is staying up for good!  
> Kudos and comments are never expected but always appreciated :)


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